Say Something
by anneikenskywalker
Summary: On a journey to meet his future bride, Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow, King of the North, thinks back on the woman he left behind, Lady Sansa Stark - his thoughts filled with childhood memories, feelings realized and words left said and unsaid. Will Jon have a change of heart? Will Sansa reciprocate? If so, they will soon realize that the path before them is dark and full of terrors.
1. Chapter 1

**_(Hi all. This just started as a Jon/Sansa babble to get the creative juices going. Let me know if you like and maybe, in the near future, I'll expand the story:))_**

Jon kept his legs firm to his white steed's side, his feet locked in the stirrups, and the reins gently tethered around his hands as his body went through the motions of riding but, his mind was somewhere else entirely as they rode through the frozen tundra on their way to King's Landing…

First, to a winter's night when Jon was four year-old and he had tip- toed into the upper tower nursery. He remembered how his father-or the man he had believed to be his father- had come into the room with a gentle smile and lifted him up so he could see into the wooden crib.

That was the first time he saw her…

Sansa.

The baby smiled and cooed at him, wrapping her tiny hand around his finger.

Jon could still feel the softness of her skin as a baby...it was the same softness that he felt against his lips when he had kissed her forehead just a few weeks before.

Jon's thoughts then strayed to how the happy baby who had toddled after him and Robb transformed into the smart, sassy young girl, who was quick to temper and full of opinions.

He remembered how the way she looked at him changed when, at six years of age, she learned that he was her father's bastard.

Catlin Stark had told her—she had told all the children.

Originally, it wasn't out of any sort of malice, but to explain why Jon couldn't sit with them at formal feasts, or in the main carriage when they traveled or stand with them when they received formal visits and tributes from the other Northern families.

But, out of all the children, the only person Jon's heritage suddenly mattered to was Sansa.

From then on, she never spoke _to_ him, only _about_ him…

Or that could have just been his imagination.

The truth was that once they both hit certain ages, there were society standards and training they were both forced to undertake to prepare them for the lives they were supposed to lead—training that kept them separated for hours a day.

But, even then there _were moments_ between them.

Instantly, he remembered the handful of times that she had smiled in his direction-genuinely smiled.

It was usually when he won a sparring match against Robb or said something funny in the evening at the family table.

It was usually just a small smirk or a corner smile, and she probably didn't realize anyone had seen it because it was so quick or wondered if it ever mattered, but _he_ had seen it and it mattered to him more than she realized.

So, when Sansa had asked him to forgive her almost a half a decade later in front of the fire in his quarters at the Wall, he immediately told her there was nothing to forgive…

And there wasn't.

Not when she her eyes were focused softly on him in that moment and a smile like the one that used to cross her lips as a young girl appeared as she looked down into the mug of ale in her hands and she showed him the kindness and vulnerability that he knew always existed inside of her.

But, it wasn't just the smiles or the looks she gave him.

Then, Jon remembered the first time he touched her and when it was more than just a simple touch for him-when it had sparked something inside of him that he never knew existed…

She was thirteen and he was seventeen, not but six months before she was to leave for King's landing.

She was riding through the south keep entrance with Arya in the saddle in front of her.

Sansa was spirited and was showing off as usual in the saddle and didn't see where Arya had turned the reins until it was too late.

As a result, Sansa was thrown from the horse and landed hard on the ground in the courtyard, lucky that the horse didn't trample her.

Jon heard the commotion and immediately rushed out from where he had been having his blades smithed.

When he saw her lying motionless on the ground, his heart stopped.

It wasn't until he fell to his knees at her side and rolled her over—the motion causing her airway to open and Sansa to let out a strangled cough—that it began beating again.

When her eyes focused on him, he could tell she had taken a knock to the head and her thoughts were a little foggy, but she looked almost relieved to see him kneeling over her, her eyes watering.

"Jon?" she whispered, seemingly also surprised that he would come to her aide.

But, how could she think that? When he had been watching over her secretly her entire life.

"We should get you inside so the Maester can look at you…" Jon said quickly, as he took hold of her around the waist then grabbed her right hand to lift her arm securely around his neck.

But, when their skin touched, it was so electric that it stopped him in his tracks.

His eyes were immediately drawn to Sansa's where he found himself engulfed in a sea of blue and he noticed that she, too, was enthralled and looking directly at him—something she hadn't done in many years—the expression on her face as if she was seeing him for the first time.

She had felt it, too.

The moment seemed to pass between them in slow motion before Jon finally snapped out of it and lifted her gently into his arms.

"Steady, Love...I've got you..." he whispered as he folded her close to his chest and carried her through the large wooden doors into the great hall, certain he felt her head snuggle into his shoulder…

That is, until her mother rushed out from one of the main corridors and had asked Robb to immediately eradicate her daughter from 'that bastard's arms'.

It was in that moment, though, that he first felt something else for Sansa Stark—the desire to protect her, to love her and cherish her so that no one would ever do her wrong.

There was something about having her in his arms and the threat of having her pulled away from him that awakened something in Jon in that moment.

Something that he carried with him ever since.

To the wall...

Into the battles he faced...

To that cave with Ygritte...

To the moment he wanted to kill Ramsey Bolton for even laying a finger on Sansa...

"No." Sansa had told Robb surely and adamantly in a weak voice when her older brother had reached for her that day, "I'm safe with Jon."

A smile of satisfaction came even now to Jon's face when he remembered the look on Catlin Stark's at her daughter's words and the way the young girl's arms tightened around his neck as he carried Sansa past the gawking servants up to her rooms.

Of course, the next day, they went back to their separate lives—Sansa barely saying anything to him.

And months later, he was wearing the black of the Knights Watch and Sansa was hundreds of miles away being groomed to be the queen she always wanted to be…

Something Jon knew he could never give her as a bastard.

Until now.

Until he was declared King of the North by all the loyal houses.

And, now that that has happened, they have been reunited and have spent the last three weeks together, he would give anything to have Sansa Stark standing at his side, not just his confidant or his advisor or as the last surviving link to his family, but as his _wife._

There was nothing stopping them anymore—no laws or codes of honor.

Jon now knew his true heritage and that only destiny now ruled over himself and Sansa, not the ghost of morality.

He had made his decision.

The North was his home, not Kings Landing.

He wanted to sit in Ned Stark's chair, not the Iron Throne.

Jon wanted a quiet life full of love, happiness, loyalty and responsibility.

He wanted to be the King of the North, not the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

So he had signed over his claim to Daenerys when she had conquered Westeros and out of gratitude, she had offered him her hand.

Sansa thought he was crazy for giving up his claim, but was resigned to the idea of him marrying his aunt.

"Targaryens belong with Targaryens…" was all she said on the matter, "Dragons can only survive with other dragons."

"And what if a dragon ever wanted to be with another creature?" Jon had suddenly found himself asking.

Sansa's eyes suddenly drew up to his in that moment and she wrapped her furs around her tighter, her gaze growing soft before she replied in a soft whisper "There are too many 'if's in that sentence, Jon."

"Actually," Jon replied, stepping forward, "There is _only_ one 'if' in that sentence."

Sansa straightened and visibly swallowed, growing nervous at his proximity as their faces came dangerously close to one another in the torch light, "And what is this other creature that the dragon is so fond of?"

Jon smirked, "A wolf…"

Then his face softened as he brought a hand up to stroke her cheek, "The most beautiful, wild wolf that the dragon has ever seen…"

"Jon…" Sansa whispered, deflecting

"Most dragons are territorial," Jon said, ignoring her words as he continued, "And they are greedy and will destroy each other with fire in the blink of an eye. They don't provide each other with warm or security or family- _wolves, however_ …wolves do that for each other and for other animals, too. There is a no other animal in the world that is as accepting, loyal or as kind and loving as a wolf can be…"

"So the dragon wants to be loved?" Sansa whispered, narrowing her eyes, "I've never heard of a dragon wanting to be loved…"

"Well, _this one_ does…" Jon replied, lowering his hand to Sansa's jaw line as his eyes moved down to linger on her lips as his fingers traced delicately along her chin.

There was a long silence between them before Jon lowered his face to hers and whispered against her lips, "Could you love a dragon, My Lady?"

Suddenly, Sansa's eyes turned dark and she immediately raised a hand to his chest and pushed him back.

"I've been forced to love _too many_ monsters…" she said sternly, then turned out of his grasp and left the room, "I can't love a dragon."

Her words had stung him.

But, Jon knew Sansa Stark better than she probably knew herself.

She cared for him and trusted him, but she had been hurt by love and had a hard time welcoming his advances.

No matter what her heart seemed to want, her head said no.

Jon was Jon...but, Jon may also be the enemy.

Ergo, the walls went up.

She had been lied to before by rulers who only wanted her for her bloodline, who had abused her body instead of cherishing it.

Jon remembered speaking to his father once about his marriage plans for Sansa.

And thought of how hesitant Ned had seemed.

He knew that his daughter had to marry one day.

Heritage, status and society demanded it be done.

Still, Ned Stark, like all fathers, wasn't sure he would ever find someone good enough for his daughter. But, he smiled kindly at Jon as he mentioned her marrying someone brave, gentle and strong...his eyes almost betraying that he seemed to know the future.

That Jon and Sansa may one day end up together.

As the guard called out for a break and the horse beneath his legs came to a halt, breaking him from his memories, Jon couldn't help but wonder what his father would think about what had been transpiring between himself and Sansa.

When she had taken his hand across the table at the Wall to plead for him to save their home...

The way she looked at him when he accepted the cloak she had made for him with the Stark insignia…

When she ran into his arms that day they had laid eyes on each other for the first time in five years...

He had been gentle in his touch.

And the way she had smiled up at him when he was named King of the North, seemingly proud to be sitting at his side…

The way she looked at him as he beat Ramsey Bolton senseless in the mud of Winterfell…

Surely, he had been brave enough.

How she had cried when she told him that if they lost the battle against the Boltons, she was never going back to her husband and he tried to reassure her, though the sight of her in tears made him want to crumble…

He had shown her his strength.

But, that was all before they knew that they were not brother and sister…

Before they knew the real story of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark...

Even before Sam had told them about how their love was written in the stars…House Stark and House Targaryen…

Before Jon knew what Ramsey Bolton _really_ did to Sansa…

Before Sansa knew the story of himself and Ygritte and she couldn't help but wonder if his love for her was just because she resembled his first true love…

Before he confessed his love for her in so many words and she walked away…

Before he agreed to marry Daenerys Targaryen and she said nothing.

Jon can still see her beautiful face staring at him in this mind as they faced each other in the throne room.

 _Say Something!_ he wants to yell at her, but can't bring himself to.

He wants to love her, not scare her.

He wants to be gentle with her, but at the same time he wants to rip all her clothes off of her body and worship it like a sacred alter.

 _Why didn't she say anything? Does she think that she doesn't deserve happiness after all she has suffered—after all we have both suffered?_

 _Is she afraid of our destiny? A dragon and a wolf together on a path..."_

Suddenly, Jon gasps and his guard immediately comes to his side.

"My Lord?" he asks looking up to where Jon is still mounted on his horse, the only one who has not come down to take a rest.

"I can't believe I didn't see it before…" Jon said softly, a small smile crossing his face as he pulled the reigns back on his horse and it neighed in compliance and turned, "A _dragon_..."

"Uh…My Lord-" The guard started, but Jon ignored him and spoke his own words

"Tell Queen Daenerys that I am her loyal servant from this day until my last day, but I cannot be her husband. My heart belongs to another."

"Jon!" Lord Manderly now stepped forward, outraged, "What do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm going home!" Jon called out as he kicked his horse hard and took off back down the snow covered trail, causing men and beast to scatter.

# # # # # # # #

"He's a dragon now…" Sansa whispered as she closed her eyes and let her fingers lovingly stroke the embroidered leather sword strap she had made for Jon and now lay hanging cross ways on his wardrobe door, "He's always been a dragon and I never knew him at all..."

Then she reached inside and took hold of the shirt sleeve of one of his tunics and slowly brought it to her face, closing her eyes as she breathed in his familiar scent that brought back a thousand memories from her childhood and feelings she felt earlier than anyone ever would have suspected-feelings that she kept hidden behind a mask of disdain lest anyone see.

 _Jon..._

She had let power and the ideal of Joffrey drive her away from him once and without his protection she had been lied to, manipulated and abused.

How foolish she had been.

The first time she had felt something other than brotherly affection for him was when he rescued her at the Mikelmus Feast.

She was eleven and she and Joffrey had just met that year, and after what seemed like a meaningful conversation that evening and lots of flirting, he snubbed her and asked another northern girl to dance just for the sake of making her jealous, walking away and leaving her alone with what felt like everyone in the great hall watching her.

That is, until Jon appeared at her side.

Without saying a word, he held out his hand to her and offered a dance without speaking a word to her.

When their hands touched that first time, it was electric.

In that moment, in the way he held her and looked at her and protected her and guided her around the floor to save her from ridicule, and in every moment since...those moments over the last few weeks when she felt her feelings slowly awaken again for him...Jon had been everything her father had once promised her she would have in a husband.

He was brave and gentle and strong.

But, he was a dragon. He was not a wolf.

He belonged with Daenerys.

And, while that pained her more than she could say, Sansa just wanted Jon to be happy.

Suddenly, she heard a commotion outside the window and quickly pulled her face back and released her hold on the shirt.

When she rushed to forward to look out on the courtyard, she saw the Knights of the Vale open the gate to let a dark figure on a white horse through.

Sansa gasped and a small smile crossed her face.

Then, before she knew what was happening, her feet carried her through the door and down the stone steps of the south tower to the great hall.

She hastily made her way through the crowd of servants and passed the attendants, who bowed in her presence, as she rushed from the castle and out into the yard of the keep.

Jon had just dismounted and rounded the front of his horse, handing the reins to a stable boy, when Sansa came to a stop just yards in front of him with her white dress flowing behind her in the wind and her cheeks flushed from running.

They locked eyes for a moment—a moment that almost seemed an eternity.

 _Say something_ …she thought to herself

# # # # # #

 _Say something…_ Jon thought to himself as he stared at Sansa now before him

But, for the first time, he wasn't talking to her.

He was talking to _himself._

Jon licked his lips as he took a few steps forward, swallowed and then said in a gentle voice, his eyes softening as he looked her up and down, "I was wrong. What I said before about being a dragon…I was wrong."

A look of sweet empathy suddenly crossed Sansa's face and Jon knew he had struck gold.

"But, I was _right_ when I said that I belonged with you and when I asked you to love me. I may have been born a dragon, but I was raised by wolves—by the _best wolf,_ your father Eddard Stark. He taught me how to be a wolf _and_ a dragon. I think he did this because, one day, he knew I'd probably be given a choice, if I was lucky, and he wanted me to make the right one...and I know I have."

"Jon…" Sansa whispered, a tear now streaking down her face

"I love you," Jon interjected, his voice trembling and his face on the verge of crumbling, "I have loved you from the moment you took your first breath—from the moment I first saw you in that crib in the tower—and _every_ moment after that. I've loved you in so many different ways and for so many different reasons. First, as my sister, then as _more._ Through it all, you were _always_ my family, Sansa, and you _still are_. And…I don't want to lose you. _Not ever again._ I want to be your husband, if you'll have me. I am a dragon no longer. I choose _you_ , Sansa Stark. I choose to be a wolf—Jon Stark of Winterfell, not Eamonn Targaryen-"

Suddenly, Sansa rushed forward and leaped into his arms before he could finish, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she pulled herself up to his face and kissed him with a fierce passion.

It was then that the gathering crowd—soldiers, servants, and northern families—broke out into cheers and applause.

But, Sansa paid them no mind as she continued to kiss Jon in front of the Gods and everyone.

When she finally pulled back from him, breathing hard as she gazed into his eyes for a long moment, she whispered as she rested her forehead against his, "You were _always_ a Stark to me...I was just waiting for _you_ to want it. I was just waiting for you to say something."


	2. Chapter 2

**((Holy Crap, y'all! I'm just flowing with the creativity this week. I'm hoping there is more to come. WARNING FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER: RATING MIGHT GO A LITTLE HIGHER. So, if you aren't into or aren't ready for a progression in the Sansa/Jon love fest, abort now.))**

Sansa let out a sigh as she beheld herself in the mirror of the vanity before leaning forward and pulling back a stray strand of her flaming red hair that had gotten lose as Gaya and Analisa continued to gently place flowers in her elaborate up-do.

As she sat back slowly and they continued to put the finishing touches on her hair, Sansa reached out to pick up the tin of smelling powder, but couldn't keep her hand steady and fumbled the lid and base, sending the powder flying onto the front of her green dress and bouncing across the wood top of her vanity before it landed on the floor, spilling its contents everywhere.

"Oh, Gods…" she cursed, then closed her eyes to steady herself as one of her hand maidens fell to her knees next to the vanity and picked up the metal container, salvaging what she could from the floor, " _I'm sorry—"_

"It's alright, My Lady," Analisa soothed as she came to her feet and set the powder in front of Sansa again, but Sansa didn't reach for it.

Sansa breathed in steadily, then out again, before reaching out and taking a hold of Analisa's arm as she gave a soft smile, "Forgive me. It's just nerves…I know it is…I don't know _why_ —it's _Jon_ …I couldn't be marrying a better man. In fact I h _ave married_ far _worse_ —"

"My Lady…" Analisa soothed as she gently lay her hand on top of Sansa's on her arm, "If I may be so bold too speak…I think having the nerves today are a _good thing_. There is no shame in them. They tell you that you care about him and that you've made the right decision."

A look of relief crossed Sansa's face as her grip tightened in appreciation on Analisa's arm.

Suddenly, there was a gentle knock at the door.

"Excuse me, My Lady," Gaya said, stepping back from her mistress and curtsying to Sansa before turning on her heel to answer the door.

Meanwhile, Analisa and Sansa released one another and Sansa turned back toward the mirror in front of her.

"Allow me, My Lady?" Analisa smiled gently and lifted the tin of powder in her hands and Sansa nodded, then closed her eyes as she felt Analisa begin dusting her face, neck and chest with the powder.

Not long after, Sansa heard Gaya open the door to her chambers and receive the person standing there.

"Lord Stark would like to have an audience with Lady Sansa…" a familiar voice sounded and Sansa's eyes opened when she heard it.

It was Jon's hand and steward, Lord Davos.

She could hear the sweetness and good humor in Gaya's voice as she said, "Tell My Lord Stark that Lady Sansa will not receive him before the wedding…as is tradition."

Sansa smiled as she listened and waited for Davos' answer, but there was no quick reply.

After a long moment of silence, Davos said, "One moment, please…"

Then she heard Lord Davos' distant footsteps down the hall

Then quiet.

Then after a few moments, Sansa turned toward the door in her chair and watched Davos' face appear in the doorway just past Gaya's shoulder.

"And what if Lord Stark agrees not to gaze upon the bride?"

 _Jon…_

Sansa couldn't help but chuckle. It was like Davos had run back around the corner to report to Jon and he sent Davos back with his answer.

In fact, that's probably what they did.

"Sir…" Gaya replied, her voice playful, "As I told you—"

"Oh, for _Heaven's sake,"_ Sansa suddenly found herself speaking up, "If my future husband is so desperate to have a word with me before the ceremony, just blind fold him and bring him in."

Sansa could see Lord Davos smile on the other side of Gaya's shoulder then turned on his heel and disappear.

Gaya stepped away from the door, leaving it open for the gentlemen's return.

She then realized that that was her cue and gracefully stood, smoothing the wrinkles out of her emerald dress and dusting the remnants of powder on the front of it with a grimace as her lady's came quickly to her sides and waited.

Within a few moments, Lord Davos returned, leading a blindfolded Jon by the arm into the room.

Sansa shared a conspiratorial smile with Gaya and Analisa then nodded toward Jon and they both immediately curtsied in his presence as per tradition.

"My Lord," they said in unison, then took their leave of the room, rushing past Jon and Davos before they lost their composure and dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Davos turned Jon in Sansa's direction, then pulled a box from his own pocket and placed it in Jon's open right hand.

"Knock on the door twice when you are ready to leave and I will come for you, My Lord," Davos said, then turned to Lady Sansa and gave a deep bow.

"My Lady," he said solemnly with a gently smile before he turned and exited the room as well, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.

# # # # # # #

There was a long silence before Sansa stepped forward and closed the distance between them.

With an amused smile, she reached up and around to the back of Jon's head and let lose the blindfold, letting it fall softly into her hand and reveal the face of her handsome Lord Stark.

Blinked in surprise as his dark eyes met her ocean blue and he let out an unsteady breath.

"But… _tradition_ —" he started with a small smirk

"Oh, _please_ …" Sansa retorted with a chuckle as she wrapped the blindfold nervously around her hand and took a few steps back from him, "I don't believe in such superstitious nonsense. And besides, I would much rather see you when I talk to you and for you to see me. Don't you agree?"

Jon's face softened as he looked her up and down, "I do. Especially when you look like _that…"_

Sansa blushed slightly and dipped her head shyly, "I hope you don't mind that I'm not wearing white. I—I knew green was your favorite color and this once belonged to my mother. It was one of my favorite dresses of hers—"

"I remember it…" Jon interrupted, a small smile crossing his lips as he took a tentative step forward like a hunter trying not to scare off a deer, "It's perfect."

Then after a long silence, realizing that she wasn't going to bolt, he slowly moved closer, taking slow, quiet steps as he closed the distance between them, his eyes not leaving hers.

" _You're_ perfect."

Sansa swallowed nervously, then broke her eye contact from Jon and looked down to the box Davos had left him in his hand.

"What's in the box?" she asked, changing the subject

Jon pulled himself back to reality and looked down to his hand, suddenly remembering why he came in the first place.

"A gift," Jon said gently, then opened the box and held it out to her, "I had it made for you."

Sansa received it gently, trying desperately to ignore the electricity that sparked between their bodies when Jon's fingers brushed against hers in the transfer.

When she gazed inside, her breath caught.

"Jon...it's _beautiful…_ " she whispered, her eyes immediately lifting to meet Jon's and awe spreading across her face.

"You like it?" Jon asked, his eyes dancing with anticipation

"I _love it_ …" Sansa immediately replied as she cast her eyes back down upon the necklace of woven silver and gold with a wolf pendent. In the center of the wolf, the silver and gold intertwined into a traditional wedding knot and Sansa brushed her index finger gently over it, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, My Lady," Jon said, then knowing he couldn't kiss her before the wedding ceremony bonded them, reached out and took hold of her free hand and knelt before her, kissing it gently.

Sansa took in a nervous breath and then smiled down at him as he stayed on his knee, laying his forehead gently against the back of her hand for a long moment before he lifted his head again and his dark eyes met hers as he rose to his feet.

"I would very much like for you to wear it to the wedding ceremony. May I help you put it on?" Jon asked

Sansa nodded, then watched as Jon gently removed the necklace from the box with one hand while taking the box into his other, where after he slipped it inside the front of his vest before he circled around her.

With a swift, graceful movement that Sansa wouldn't have expected from a warrior such as he, Jon placed the necklace around her neck and clasped it, his fingers brushing softly over the back of her neck when he was finished.

Sansa took firm hold of the pendent and let out a long breath feeling the electricity generated by his touch travel up her spine for a long moment, then turned on her heel to face him.

Jon looked surprised by her action, but never faltered as she took a step closer to him.

"My Lord, I know it is against tradition…" Sansa said softly, her gaze quickly moving from her eyes to his lips, where they lingered as a small smile crossed her face, "But I would _very much_ like to kiss you at this moment, if you will permit me—"

Sansa didn't even finish the words before Jon closed the distance between them and captured her lips in a long kiss, wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her up into his embrace.

Sansa wasn't sure how long she had spent in his embrace or how long their lips had tangled or how many gasps she had let out as he trailed kisses down her neck and jaw line, until there was a crisp knock at the door and they flew apart like shrapnel as Lord Davos entered.

" _Oh!"_ He cried, surprise evident in his voice and in his eyebrows as he beheld the couple in such close proximity, "Begging your pardon, My Lord…" He bowed to Jon, then to Sansa, "My Lady."

"We lost track of time," Jon suddenly said to Sansa with a small smirk, "The Northern families must be arriving."

"Yes, My Lord," Davos added as he rose to his upright position, "But I can see that it was time _well spent."_

" _Well, then…"_ Sansa said, a blush filling her cheeks at Davos' words and a small, conspiratorial smile crossing her face, "You shouldn't keep them waiting, My Lord."

Jon nodded reluctantly, then stepped forward and cleared his throat, "We must keep up appearances. My blindfold, please, Lady Sansa?"

Sansa smirked as she stepped forward and un-wrapped the blindfold from her hand, then circled Jon and brought the blindfold around his face, covering his eyes and tying a firm knot at the back.

Sansa gave a quick nod to Lord Davos and the steward moved forward and took hold of Jon's arm, leading his lordship from the room.

# # # # # # # #

As her hand maidens unlaced, then discarded her wedding dress in the soft evening candlelight radiating from the dressing room of her chambers, Sansa closed her eyes and tried to calm her nerves.

But, she couldn't do so easily.

She had made it through the wedding and the feast and, though she was utterly exhausted, she knew that the consummation of her marriage to Jon still lay ahead.

 _We need this_ … she reminded herself, _The North needs this. The continuation of House Stark. And you care for Jon and he cares for you…Don't be nervous...He would never hurt you…_

But words could not quell her feelings of dread and suddenly, Sansa felt herself tremble as the images of Joffrey Baratheon and Ramsay Bolton instantly flooded her mind—their cruel smiles as they stood before her and their cold, hard hands as they touched her against her will...

The only person who had actually treated her with decency on her journey to Jon was Tyrion Lannister…

But, he was dead now for all she knew. Though in her heart, she hoped not.

Sansa forced herself to take in a calming breath and focus on Jon.

 _Jon…_

Whose chocolate brown eyes were gentle and kind and never left hers throughout the ceremony that night, a look of unquestionable love and devotion on his face.

Whose hands were soft and warm around hers, not cold and hard, as they were tied together and they recited the words..." _Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maid, Crone, Stranger…I am hers/his and she/he is mine, from this day until the end of my days..."_

Who waited patiently for her to kiss him, to seal their marriage in front of those loyal to the House of Stark, instead of claiming her like she was his property.

He would be a gentle lover, Sansa was sure of it .

She trembled again.

But, this time it was the good kind—anticipation flooding through her.

Sansa opened her eyes and looked at herself in the full length mirror, knowing that once she took off her silver dressing gown, he would see what Ramsay Bolton had truly done to her, though she had gathered the courage to tell him some weeks ago.

Would he still want her then?

Would she still be as beautiful to him then?

Perhaps, she could convince him to leave her gown on during their consummation...

Just for tonight.

But, could she really go through with it?

Though she didn't have doubts about Jon, she did have doubts about herself.

What Joffrey and Ramsay did to her damaged her soul as well as her body. That she knew.

Their voices, their heavy breathing, their cruel, sickening laughter still permeated her mind.

What if Jon touched her, but all she could see and all she could feel was Ramsay Bolton above her?

The thought instantly made her feel sick and twisted her stomach in knots.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the adjacent door to her bedchamber and Analisa hurried over to answer, leaving Gaya to brush out Sansa's hair.

When she opened it, Sansa heard a voice she didn't recognize—most likely a guard—state, "His Lord Stark awaits Lady Sansa in her chambers."

Analisa nodded, "Of course. Tell my Lord Stark that Lady Sansa will be but another moment."

Sansa swallowed back the lump in her throat as she heard the door close and she swiftly brought her right hand to her neck to clasp the wolf pendant there for comfort.

A necklace Jon had given her.

Then, she noticed Gaya step away from her and curtsy, holding the hair brush firmly to her chest.

"The Gods blessings upon you tonight, Lady Sansa."

Analisa then placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and led Sansa toward the door to her bed chambers and into the arms of her new husband.

As soon as they reached the threshold, however, Sansa stopped on a dime and turned toward Analisa, placing her hand gently on the young handmaidens arm to still her from opening the door just yet.

"What—what if I'm not _good_ at it?" Sansa spoke, her voice uneven, "What if I pull away? What if I feel only pain instead of pleasure? What if he's disappointed in me?"

There.

She had finally said the words out loud. And more over to someone she trusted among all others.

Analisa just smiled as she turned toward Sansa and cupped the young woman's face in her hands.

"He will _not_ be disappointed. _He loves you,_ Sansa. The pain—the visions—it will get better with time, you'll see. And Jon is a good man. He will not turn his back on you."

Sansa took a breath, then nodded as Analisa lowered her hands before reaching for the door again, quirking an eyebrow as she looked up to Sansa.

Sansa nodded her assent and Analisa opened the door into the fire lit room and Sansa swept in.

Jon, who had been laying on one side of the bed in his own dressing robes awaiting her arrival, immediately sat up to face her.

A look of awe inspiring love crossed his face as he beheld Sansa in the darkness lit only by the dancing flames of the fire.

Sansa blushed under the intensity of his gaze, then turned and watched Analisa go, giving her an encouraging smile as she shut the door behind her.

Silence filled the room immediately as the couple gazed upon each other.

Finally, Sansa stepped forward, and pushing down her nerves, started to unwrap her silver robe from her waist.

Jon watched her with soft eyes as she approached the bed, slipping the long rob from her shoulders before tossing it onto a nearby chair.

When she reached the edge of her side of the bed, Sansa brought her fingers slowly to the top string of her night stress and started to untie it.

"Sansa…" Jon suddenly whispered, holding a gentle hand up in the air to stop her, "Don't."

Taken aback, Sansa immediately removed her hand from the strings and brought it to wrap around the wolf pendant on her neck, nervously.

"Is—is something wrong, My Lord?" she asked, looking worried, "Did I do something to displease you—"

"No, _never,_ " Jon immediately replied, a kind smile crossing his face and when she saw it, Sansa relaxed, "Its—it's just that… _I_ would like the honor of undressing my bride…that is, when she _asks me_ to … _and only_ when she asks me to."

"Jon—" Sansa started, confused as she moved closer to the side of the bed.

It was just as she did, that she saw it –Jon's sword, unsheathed and lying long ways down the middle of the bed, drawing a noble line in the mattress and separating their sides.

"What is this?" Sansa asked, a small smile coming to her lips, though she knew the answer.

Chivalry.

Her father had once told her tales of the brave and selfless knights who would lay swords in a shared bed to protect a maiden's honor.

Jon was such a knight.

He wasn't going to touch her unless she asked…Unless _she_ initiated it.

He would wait for her and not rush her and a rolling wave of relief immediately rushed through her.

She didn't have to worry about the nightmares or remember the pain...

At least, not this night when it was still all so near.

He loved her enough that he would wait for her and the thought filled her will gratitude and unfathomable amounts of love and...arousal?

"You know I would never hurt you, Sansa…" Jon said, his quiet voice breaking her thoughts, "I only wish to _love you_ — _every inch_ of you. But, I know what you've been through…and I'm prepared to wait. And when you are ready for me, I will be ready for you."

"Are—are you sure?" Sansa asked, her eyes moving from the sword to meet Jon's gaze

Jon nodded, "I'm sure. We have the rest of our lives to make love. Tonight…I just want to know that you are my wife and that you are lying next to me... and that is _all_ I want. I give you my solemn vow, here and now, that I _will not_ cross the boundary of this sword. Only _you_ can cross over to my side."

Sansa bit her lip and swallowed.

"Thank you," she finally whispered

"You're welcome," Jon replied, their eyes meeting softly for a long moment before he turned and lay back down against the pillows, adjusting them behind his head, "Well, I had far _too much_ ale tonight. I'm _definitely_ ready for some much deserved beauty rest," he then held out a hand and motioned to her, "And you need yours too. Come, Sansa, don't be nervous. You must be tired as well."

Sansa smiled as she followed his lead and climbed in on her side of the bed and lay back slowly, her face softening as she felt Jon pull the covers up around them.

After a moment, she sighed, happy to be lying down after such a long day, then turned her head to face Jon and found him staring at her.

"What?" Sansa asked, a small smirk on her lips

"Nothing…" Jon said with soft smile, then took in a breath and closed his eyes, as he whispered, "Goodnight, wife."

"Goodnight," Sansa replied adjusting the pillow under her head as she turned on her side and watched across the boundary line in their bed as Jon's face relaxed and he fell asleep.

When she finally heard his soft snoring, she smiled as she inched herself closer, leaning tentatively across the sword between them as she planted a kiss on the scar over his left eye and whispered in his ear the words he had not yet heard her speak.

"I love you, Jon Stark."


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa sat cross-legged on her side of the bed, her nightdress wrinkled and her long red hair tossed over her left shoulder.

Clutching her pillow to her chest and resting her chin on the end, she watched as the first morning rays of sunshine fell in through the bank of windows on the other side of her bedchamber and illuminated the face of her new husband.

She smirked as she finally plucked up the courage to reach out her hand to stroke his dark locks...

But, before she could, Jon stirred under the covers, sucking in a short breath before his eyes blinked open.

When they had finally gained focus, they moved from the ceiling above him to where he suddenly noticed Sansa staring at him.

"Good Morning," he smiled, a little startled, looking her up and down

"Good Morning," she replied, setting her pillow aside but not taking her intense focus off of him.

It suddenly made Jon nervous.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asked in good humor, bringing his hand up to wipe from his cheek bone to his chin on one side of his face, but when he looked down at it and saw nothing on it, he looked at her again with a raised eyebrow, "Did I snore too loud?"

"No." Sansa shook her head, then smiled conspiratorially

"Then, _what?"_ he chuckled, narrowing his eyes

"I don't know…" Sansa whispered, looking away, "I suppose I just like waking up and seeing your face."

"Like wise…" Jon nodded softly, wanting to reach out and touch her in that moment—to kiss her, to stroke her cheek in reassurance—but he immediately remembered his vow.

That would have to wait until they were out of bed.

"Jon…" Sansa said trailing off for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders, bringing herself back to reality, and continued, "Thank you, again…for this…"

Her eyes moved to the sword, then back up to meet his

"Sansa," Jon soothed, slowly turning on his side and propping his head in his hand under his elbow on the pillow as he looked up to her, "I told you I love you and I _meant it_. That means that I will wait for you— _forever_ if I have to."

"Well, hopefully, not _that long_ …" Sansa smirked and then let it fall when she saw the small, hopeful look cross Jon's face.

There was a moment of silence between them as Sansa looked down to her hands.

"Jon…" she said softly, "I _need_ you to know that… last night…" then was a pause as she forced herself to lift her gaze to meet Jon's again, "I _truly_ wanted to be with you—to give myself to you...But, I have to admit that I was scared. I still am."

"Of what?" Jon asked, quickly sitting up to face her

"Mostly of disappointing you…" Sansa said, her eyes sad and reproachful

"Oh, sweetheart, that would _never_ happen—" Jon immediately, his eyes kind and soft

"And I'm even _more scared_ of what I might see and feel and remember when I'm with you…" Sansa interjected, closing her eyes and letting out a short, nervous breath

"Then, we'll just have to take it one step at a time and make sure that we both think of nothing but _good memories_ when we are together," was Jon's easy reply, "And I'll _help you_ get there, Sansa…in any way I can."

" _Both_ think of good memories?" Sansa asked, raising an eyebrow

There was a moment of silence between them before Jon's face softened and he said, "I'm scared, too, you know."

Sansa took in his words for a moment then a small, surprised smile crossed her face as she asked softly, "You are?"

Jon swallowed and nodded, his eyes kind

"Then…" Sansa whispered, studying his face, "I'm glad we can be scared together..."

Jon gave a gentle smile in response

"Jon," Sansa continued, the gears in her head moving as she inched closer to the sword drawn between them on the mattress, "I may be scared out of my mind… but I do _trust you_. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Jon immediately replied without hesitation

"Then remove your sword from this bed, Lord Stark, so your wife may touch you…" she whispered, the waves of desire rising in her ocean blue eyes.

At her words, his own eyes never leaving hers, Jon immediately reached down and picked up the sword by the hilt, throwing it swiftly off the end of the bed, where it clanged hard onto the floor.

With the boundary between them gone, Sansa immediately slid herself over to his side of the bed until their bodies were separated by mere inches.

"Would it be alright if we just start…slow?" Sansa asked, her voice slightly trembling as she kept her eyes locked with Jon's and reached forward to touch his face

Jon nodded wordlessly, closing his eyes as she felt Sansa's hands gently cup his bearded face, the thumb of her right hand stroking the base of the long scar that ran down his left eye.

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence and heaving breathing between them as they moved slowly closer to one another until Jon finally said softly, not opening his eyes as he relished her soft touch, " _Please, kiss me_ , Sansa or I think I'll die…"

Sansa smirked, finally surging forward and kissing him passionately, her hands slowly and gently tracing from the sides of his face and through the curls of his dark brown hair, while her arms wound around her husband's neck and felt his own arms embrace her, bringing her closer to him.

When their lips parted, she gasped, laying her forehead against his for a short moment before her lips found his again and he kissed her even deeper as her legs wrapped around his waist and she found herself sitting in his lap.

Their kisses grew languid and methodical as Jon's hand moved gently down her back, pressing her closer to him—so close she could feel his heart beating rapidly against hers when their chests touched.

When Jon finally released their lips again, they shared a loving look for a moment before Jon laid a gentle kiss on Sansa's nose, then each of her cheeks, then her chin and her jaw line, before continuing the trail down her neck as she gasped and a pleasant smile crossed her face.

When he finally reached the wolf pendant around her neck and felt the metal touch his lips, Jon stopped and slowly pulled back, looking upon the gift he had given his wife with a soft smile of reverence, gently reaching up and stroking the pendant with a thoughtful finger.

Sansa watched him to do this for a moment with soft eyes before she reached for his hand there and clasped it in her own over the pendant.

"Jon…" She said so soft and quiet it was almost less than a whisper and Jon's eyes immediately flickered up to meet hers.

It was then that Sansa slowly lowered her and Jon's intertwined hands to the lacing on the front of her nightdress.

"You may undress me now."

Jon swallowed nervously, but his dark eyes instantly filled with passionate fire as Sana lowered her hand from his and watched him begin to slowly untie the laces.

When he had pulled apart the bottom lace and the top part of the grown had fallen from Sansa's shoulders, Sansa let out a passionate sigh and closed her eyes as Jon began to kiss her exposed skin, creating a trail that led from the one shoulder, across her collar bone to the other, then down toward her cleavage.

"I'm going try something…" Jon suddenly said in a soothing voice as he pulled back to face her again, releasing his soft lips from her skin, "Just relax…"

Sansa nodded then waited as Jon adjusted her in his lap with strong, but gentle arms, so that his right hand could snake down between their bodies.

He smirked a little when he realized that she hadn't worn any small clothes under her nightdress and it didn't take him long to part her folds and find her sweet spot.

Sansa gasped when his forefinger found it, her eyes uncertain, but quickly brimming with undiluted pleasure.

"Just tell me if and when you want me to stop, My Lady…" Jon leaned forward and whispered seductively in her ear

"What are you—" Sansa started, but then she felt the sensations caused by his ministrations and immediately leaned forward, one hand grasping his shoulder hard while the other intertwined tightly through his dark locks as she moaned, " _Oh…"_

"I'm loving you…" Jon said, leaning back to meet her gaze, his eyes intense as he took in the sight of her face, "The way those bastards who touched you before me _should have_."

A small smirk of agreement crossed Sansa's lips before she moaned again and leaned forward, capturing Jon's lips with her own in a deep kiss as her clitoris continued to benefit from his expert forefinger.

After a few more moments of watching Sansa's face flush in immense pleasure, her eyes closing, then opening to focus on him, Jon moved his forefinger from her clit to her opening and slipped it gently inside her.

Sansa's moan changed tone and her eyes widened in surprise, but she responded to this new development immediately, her hips starting to grind slowly and sensually against his finger with Jon's free hand still at the small of her back guiding her moments.

After a few more thrusts, Jon moved his free hand from Sansa's back to her neck, pulling her toward him and bringing her into another kiss just as he slipped a second finger inside her.

Sansa moaned into his mouth and when they finally pulled apart, bit his lip, causing Jon to release an aroused groan of his own before his lips immediately found her neck and he planted open mouth kisses there, much to Sansa's delight.

After another minute, Jon could sense she was close, and moving his hand down to the lower part of her back again, continued to guide her movements—speeding them up, then slowing them down to create maximum pleasure for her.

"Oh… _Gods_ …" Sansa finally moaned, throwing her head back, her eyes dilating as her vaginal muscles clenched hard around Jon's fingers, signaling her completion.

When it was finally over, Sansa breathed heavily, leaning forward to face Jon again, wrapping her arms around Jon's neck and kissing him languidly for a long moment before resting her forehead against his.

" _That's_ what I've been missing all this time?" she asked softly, her breathing slowing as she nuzzled against his cheek.

Jon smiled as he kissed the side of her flushed face in return and used his free hand to brush some stray flame-colored hairs from her forehead.

"Don't worry," he whispered against her skin, "There is more."

Sansa smiled as she pulled back to face him and replied with a raised eyebrow, "Show me?"

Jon nodded and Sansa let out a small gasp as he removed his fingers and gently rolled them over so that Sansa lay on the bed beneath him.

Jon positioned himself gently over her, kissing her neck and chest, slowly unlacing the rest of her nightdress from her body as she closed her eyes and relished the feeling of his strong but gentle hands.

However, when her eyes opened again a few moments, she didn't see her husband above her, she saw the face of Ramsay Bolton, with his familiar cruel smile twisted on his lips.

Sansa screamed and cried out, clenching her hands into fists and bringing them to her chest to protect herself as she instantly melted into hysterics.

"No! _Please! No!_ " she wailed

"Sansa!" Ramsay Bolton cried out, angrily taking hold of her arms, the intensity of his grasp sure to leave more bruises than she had already suffered at his hands.

Sansa closed her eyes and screamed again, continuing to struggle.

But, suddenly, when she opened her eyes again, she found through the tears in her eyes, that Ramsay's face and voice had dissolved into Jon's—though Jon's voice was gentle, not angry.

"Sansa!" he called out to her trying to arouse her from her waking nightmare, grabbing her wrists to hold her flailing arms steady, less she cause him or herself an injury, "Sansa!"

Upon seeing him, Sansa immediately complied to his words and her body stopped thrashing, her movements stilling beneath him.

They just lay there atop one another, breathing heavily as they stared into eachother's eyes for what felt like an eternity, Jon gently massaging the wrists of her clenched hands, trying to coax them to open.

"You're alright…" He reassured her, leaning forward and kissing her cheek, "You're safe…You're with me…You're safe."

When Sansa fists finally unclenched, Jon released his hold on her and she immediately sat up on the bed and threw herself into his arms and relished his touch as he held her close to his chest, running one hand through her hair soothingly as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry…" she lamented, kissing his shoulder, " _I'm so sorry..."_

Jon gently released his hold on her and pulled her back to face him, his eyes sad and gentle, a tear of his own streaked down his cheek as he beheld her in this state.

"You have nothing to be sorry for…" he said in a soft voice, "Do you _hear me_? _Nothing…"_

He brought his hands to cup Sansa's own tear-stained face, then leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead like the kind, protective older brother she once knew.

Sansa's lip trembled as she closed her eyes and felt the comfort of his lips upon her skin.

When he pulled back, Sansa brought her hands to Jon's own face and leaned forward, her eyes meeting his.

"I love you, Jon…" she said softly, a small smile crossing her face before she leaned in and captured his lips in hers.

As their kiss grew deeper, Jon gently pulled her closer to him.

When they finally pulled apart breathless, Jon whispered, his face in awe at her previous words, "I love you, too."

Sansa smiled, as she ran her long fingers through his dark hair, then leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Should we continue where we left off then?"

Jon pulled back to face her with a sad smile on his lips and a gentle sympathy in his eyes as he shook his head.

"Maybe tonight…or the night after that…" was his reply, "I've told you, I can _wait_."

"But—why?" Sansa asked, startled, her eyes narrowing

"Because you're not ready for what comes next," Jon replied gently, "At least, not yet."

"Jon—" Sansa started

"Sansa, _please…_ " Jon said, closing his eyes as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms soothingly, "Don't make me do this… _I can't…_ "

"Jon," Sansa said, trying to hold her voice steady as she quelled the new tears rising in her eyes, "We _have to._ I need your help. I—I _can't_ let Ramsay win…I can't let him do this to us. I _can't let him win—_ "

Jon's eyes immediately flew open at her words and his hands tightened lightly, but surely around her arms, "Sansa, he _won't._ I will protect you, like I promised I would. We'll go slow like we agreed. Every night, we'll try something else—and—and if it's _too much_ , we'll stop. You'll show me your scars and I'll—I'll show you mine. It may be scary and it may be painful and there may be more nightmares, but I am _her_ e, Sansa. I am _right here_. I will never leave you ever again. And before long, you won't see his face anymore above you—you'll see mine. _Only mine. I promise."_

Sana's face crumbled as she nodded, "I hope that's true…I so want that to be _true_."

"It will be …" Jon whispered as he pulled her into his embrace once more, "We'll make it so."

Sansa nodded in his arms then sobbed hard as she wrapped her arms tighter around his chest.

"I'm here…" Jon whispered softly, more tears starting to fall down his own face at the sound of her sobbing.

A few moments later, he turned them, so that they were still embraced as they lay down together on his side of the bed, Sansa's head buried into his shoulder as he pulled the covers up around them and he snuggled closer to her, kissing her face as she continued to weep out all her pain and memory, "I'm here forever, my darling girl…for this day and all the days _and nights_ to come."


	4. Chapter 4

**((Hey all. Thanks for returning. Song used in this chapter is "Light" by Sleeping at Last. Enjoy))**

"Keep your legs taut—hands together on the reins…" Jon's patient voice said in the distance, rousing Sansa out of sleep, her raw, wet eyes blinking open then immediately shutting at the intrusion of the bright afternoon sunlight.

"Like this?" Lady Lyanna Mormont's small, but strong voice sounded in response

" _Very good_ ," Jon praised, his voice echoing through the stone courtyard

Sansa breathed in a deep breath then turned on her side under the covers and reaching out across the mattress, realizing that Jon was indeed gone.

Sitting up and wiping her eyes and face, she came to the side of the bed and let her feet hit the floor before slowly rising and walking over to the window and toward Jon's voice.

"You look like a proper Lady now…" Jon smiled as Lady Lyanna rode sidesaddle on her midnight black horse in circles around him in the courtyard below, then added, "Now, remember to keep your chin up, so that the rest of your body follows posture to help keep you in the saddle."

" _Right_ ," Lady Lyanna responded and Sansa watched as she visibly straightened her posture as she rode, but rolled her eyes, "As if I didn't already look posh and ridiculous—"

"You look _fine_!" Jon laughed, crossing his arms over his chest, turning in circles to keep her in his gaze

Sansa smirked and her eyes softened as she watched Jon's face and the pleasure there as he watched the youngest member of the House of Mormont ride.

Today, she knew, was Lady Lyanna Mormont's birthday and the eleven year-old would be receiving tributes from all the Northern Families.

Families didn't usually exchange gifts on the anniversary of someone's birth, but Northerners believed, among many things, in the idea of reincarnation.

Lady Mormont was born on Bear Island many years after the death of Jon's mother and Sansa's aunt, Lady Lyanna Stark, and was named in her honor.

The North remembers…

And many northerners still believed Lady Mormont to be the reincarnation of Lyanna Stark, though there are those who have said for years that Lyanna Mormont wasn't as great a beauty—but what did that matter?

Lyanna Stark didn't just have beauty, she had a spirit and a presence that couldn't be denied or ignored.

And Lady Mormont had that in spades from birth.

In Northern tradition, it is customary to pay tribute to such reincarnations when they appear.

Therefore, Lady Mormont would receive many tributes this day, including Jon's—a handmade leather side saddle with the Mormont insignia that Sansa had helped sew.

"Alright," Lady Mormont suddenly said, breaking Sansa out of her thoughts, "That's enough of being a proper lady for one day…"

And Sansa watched Jon signal to the stable boy to come forward and take a hold of Lyanna's horse's bridle, slowing the animal.

When it had finally halted, Jon walked over as Lyanna dismounted and turned to face him.

"Thank you, Lord Stark," she nodded formally, "I humbly accept your tribute."

Jon immediately fell to one knee before her and took her hand gently in his.

"The Gods have honored my family with your life. May it be a long one…" he said, then leaned forward and kissed her hand.

When he finally pulled back and rose to his feet, Lady Mormont gave Jon something she rarely ever gave anyone.

It was a smile—a wide, beautiful, joyful, infectious smile—and one that showed how much of a child she still was.

Sansa smiled, too as she watched Lady Lyanna suddenly rush forward and leap into Jon's arms, the way her sister, Arya, used to years ago, and Jon chuckled as he held her tight and spun her around.

When he had turned toward the castle, however, his eyes looked up and met Sansa's in the window and they softened as he beheld his wife for a few moments before he closed them and tightened his grip on Lyanna and then let her go.

"Thank you, Jon…" Sansa heard Lyanna say as she turned from the window and rounded the end of her bed to the other side and grabbed her silver robe from the nearby chair.

She took in a deep breath and smiled to herself as she pulled the robe over her shoulders, then tied it around her waist, all the while thinking how sweet it was that Lady Mormont and Jon had become such friends despite their age difference.

 _He'll be a wonderful father_ … she thought to herself, then her face fell as she tossed her tussled red hair over one shoulder, _If we ever get past our intimacy issues and actually conceive a child…_

Feeling her emotions suddenly come to the surface again, she bit her now trembling lip and closed her eyes, turning and taking a seat on the edge of the bed to keep her knees from buckling.

In her mind, she saw herself handing Jon the bundle of blankets that held their first born child.

She could clearly imagine the emotion in his eyes and the elation on his face as he looked down upon the face of his child…

Sansa took another breath and flared her nostrils as she opened her eyes once more and the tears fell down her cheeks.

She couldn't let Ramsay take that from her and Jon, too.

 _She wouldn't._

But, Jon was right. Her pain—what she went through—wouldn't just disappear overnight. They had to give it time, though Sansa was the first to admit that she was never the most patient of Ned Stark's children.

With Jon by her side, though, she was sure she could do it. It would be a lot of stop and go...especially given their attraction to one another.

However, the important thing was that he was kind and he was patient and he had taken care of her in all aspects of her life since they had been reunited, so she was confident in him taking care of her in this part of their lives as well.

Besides, she could tell that there was a broken part to Jon as well—not as big a part as her, perhaps—but, broken all the same.

He would need time, too. And Sansa would help him. She would follow his lead.

"Sansa…" Jon's voice suddenly sounded nearby

Sansa immediately looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, his eyes kind as he leaned casually on the threshold with his hands behind his back and ran his gaze over her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his tone worried

Sansa gave him her best brave smile.

"There you are…" she said, trying to keep her voice as even as she could then joked as she wiped the tears away under her eyes, "I thought for sure you had left me for a younger woman when I saw you through the window just now."

Jon laughed, then smirked as he played along, pushing himself off of the threshold, "Well she _is_ wealthy, titled and commands her own army …"

"Plus opinionated and _boorishly_ stubborn—" Sansa started to reply with good humor

"Just my type," Jon interjected and his eyes met Sansa's and she immediately felt the tears returning to the brim of her eyes at the sheer amount of love and devotion in her husband's gaze.

Sansa could only smirk in response, words unable to come to her, as she watched Jon walk into the room and take a seat next to her on the edge of the bed.

She sighed as he placed the leather-bound book that now appeared in his left hand on his lap, then wrapped his right arm around her and pulled her close to him, kissing her forehead as she snuggled into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up," he whispered against her skin

Sansa closed her eyes, relishing his touch for a long moment before she pulled back and faced him, "It's Lady Mormont's Tribute Day…I understand. She is very lucky to count you as a friend, Jon. In fact, I think she may actually _like_ you….and that's a true compliment to your skills as a ruler _and_ a human being, because I'm pretty certain the Little Bear doesn't like _anyone_ …"

"Oh...I've melted stronger ice than her…" Jon smiled in response, then leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips.

Sansa sighed again contently as she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him pull her into a tight embrace as their kiss deepened.

When they finally pulled apart, Jon kissed her cheek then suddenly produced the brown leather-bound book in his hand between them.

Sansa looked at the book and raised a curious eyebrow

"Well, I don't want you think Lady Mormont has _all_ my attention, today," Jon smirked, bringing the book a little higher in front of his wife, "This is for you. Not exactly a new sidesaddle, _but_ I have a feeling you'll like this a bit more. Something of mine that I just recently found again, here at the castle..." then his voice grew unsteady, the emotion heavy in his voice as he finished, "It seems Robb kept it all these years."

Sansa narrowed her eyes as she took the book and slowly opened it on her lap.

 _ **May these words be the first  
To find your ears…**_

Sansa suddenly gasped and a small smile crossed her face as she looked down into the book and took the first of a stack of lose leaf heavy velum pages into her hands.

It was a hand drawn portrait.

 _ **The world is brighter than the sun  
Now that you're here.**_

Sansa's lip trembled and tears that had threatened her eyes, now spilled over and down her cheeks as she gazed down into the smiling faces of her parents, Catlin and Eddard Stark.

 _ **Though your eyes will need some time to adjust  
To the overwhelming light surrounding us…**_

Sansa smirked sadly as she ran a forefinger over the edges of her father's kind face. Then, she looked over to her mother, again.

They looked so young.

 _ **I'll give you everything I have.**_  
 _ **I'll teach you everything I know.**_  
 _ **I promise I'll do better.**_

Sansa reluctantly turned the page and her face crumbled as she next came face to face with her brother, Robb. He stood in a relaxed pose with his arms and legs crossed _ **.**_

He was younger too, with dark, un-tamable curls and a boyish smile that radiated from the paper the teenager he once was.

 _ **I will always hold you close,  
But I will learn to let you go.  
I promise I'll do better.**_

Sansa blinked and saw a few tears fall onto the bottom of the page before she finally willed herself to turn it.

But, her face just crumbled even more when she saw Bran and Rickon next—so young and innocent and carefree, their arms around each other lovingly at the edge of the lake in the woods near Winterfell.

 _ **I will soften every edge,  
I'll hold the world to its best,  
And I'll do better.**_

Sansa felt Jon's arm tighten around her as she wiped the tears under her eyes, then turned to the next page.

It was Arya, all of five years-old, cuddling a rabbit.

 _ **With every heartbeat I have left  
I will defend your every breath,  
And I'll do better.  
**_

"Who did these?" she asked, her eyes lifting to search her husband's

"I did," Jon replied with a soft smile and Sansa's eyes widened in surprise, "A long lost talent from ages ago. Most of them drawn in my chambers at the end of the day from memory."

Then Jon turned his attention to the book and Sansa followed him with her gaze, watching as he turned to the next page.

It was her.

' _ **Сause you are loved.  
You are loved more than you know.**_

Sansa's heart instantly melted when she saw the young girl of thirteen she left behind at Winterfell eons ago sitting on top of her favorite horse.

 _ **I hereby pledge all of my days  
To prove it so.**_

Sansa turned the to the next page and saw herself at nine years old, hugging her wolf, Lady, around the neck.

 _ **Though your heart is far too young to realize,  
The unimaginable light you hold inside.**_

Sansa's eyes suddenly moved to the bottom edge of the page and she realized there were more pages and she thumbed through them faster.

Sansa sitting cross-legged alone in a field at twelve years old…

At nine, eating an apple on the south portico of the castle, her hair blowing in the wind…

At six, holding an archery bow with her father standing behind her… _ **  
**__**  
I'll give you everything I have.  
I'll teach you everything I know.**_

 _ **I promise I'll do better.**_

Sansa chasing after Arya and Bran in the courtyard at eleven…

Sansa giving a shy smile as she sat at the table in the Great Hall at Winterfell at the same age…

Robb, nine, holding her in his lap at four years old, all giggles and smiles…

 _ **I will always hold you close,  
But I will learn to let you go.**_

 _ **I promise I'll do better.  
**_

Sansa turned toward Jon and met his gaze.

"They are _beautiful,_ Jon…" she whispered, "I had _no idea_ …"

 _ **I will rearrange the stars,  
Pull 'em down to where you are.  
I promise, I'll do better.  
**_

"Well now you know…" Jon whispered back, leaning closer to her, his gaze growing more intense.

 _ **With every heartbeat I have left,  
I'll defend your every breath.  
I promise I'll do better.**_

Jon let his words hang in the air for a moment before Sansa's curiosity peaked and she asked, "Know what?"

 _ **I will soften every edge,  
Hold the world to its best.  
I promise I'll do better.**_

Jon leaned closer and she closed her eyes as he brought his hand to brush her right cheek, then whispered in her ear, "That I have never loved _anyone_ as much and as long as I've loved you."

 _ **With every heartbeat I have left,  
I'll defend your every breath…**_


	5. Chapter 5

The thaw of spring was enough for Jon to coax Sansa out of the castle for a midday stroll and afternoon picnic by the lake they once played around as children.

Sansa was dutifully expecting guards and at least one servant to accompany them on their excursion, but was pleasantly surprised when only Jon met her at the gate, basket in hand and offering her his arm.

They walked, making casual conversation and when they reached the lake, he let her pick their spot, smiling when she chose the shade of the tree he knew was her favorite when she was a child.

Jon watched with soft eyes as Sansa unpacked their picnic.

"What?" Sansa asked, shyly, catching him gazing at her then placed a plate of cheese between before taking a seat on the other side of the blanket across from him.

"Just staring at my beautiful bride," Jon smirked as he handed a goblet of wine to her

Sansa smiled and rewarded him by sitting up on her knees and popping a strawberry into his mouth as she took the goblet from him with her other hand.

"Mmm...I like this reward system…" Jon said between chews as he sat back, watching her for a few moments longer before he started to fill his plate.

"So I spoke with Davos this morning and I have some _exciting_ news…" Jon continued as he broke off a piece of bread from the loaf between them, eyeing Sansa as she sat back down and popped a piece of cheese in her mouth and chewed it, then took a sip from her wine glass—her eyebrows raising when she sensed the sarcasm in Jon's voice, "It appears we are going to be hosting a banquet at Winterfell in one week to celebrate the continuation of the...well, of the Stark line —"

Sansa immediately turned to side and spat out her wine in surprise, causing Jon to bust up laughing.

"Oh…my… _Gods!_ " Sansa cried in surprise and mild disdain, bringing the back of her hand to her lips, " _Please_ , tell me you're _joking_!"

Jon shook his head, trying to hold back his amusement.

"There will be feasting—"

" _Oh, no_ …" Sansa interjected, scrunching up her face

"And dancing…"

" _No_ …" Sansa moaned

"All to ask the Gods to make your womb…." Jon said, taking a bite of mutton into his mouth and making a funny face, "Uh… _fruitful._ "

"The only thing _fruity_ about this whole situation is _them,"_ Sansa replied then furrowing her brow held her goblet out to Jon, "I think I need more wine."

But, Jon just made a sympathetic face and handed her the whole bottle and smirked when she immediately tossed her goblet aside onto the grass and took it from him.

"As if I didn't already have a complex about this _whole situation…_ " Sansa said as she uncorked the wine bottle and took a swig, then after she swallowed, continued, "Now, _this?_ "

"I'm sorry," Jon sighed, "I tried to convince Davos to call it off, but he said that apparently its Northern tradition. When a House goes through a watershed like ours did, the other Northern families believe it is only right to do everything they can to bless the Lord and Lady once the house is reinstated, otherwise, there could be a curse upon them."

"We've survived far worse than curses, Jon," Sansa pointed out as she took another drink and Jon agreed by raising his goblet in a small toast before taking a drink of his own.

"Well, you know _my_ thoughts on the matter," Sansa continued as she lowered the wine bottle into her lap and leaned forward to take another piece of cheese and bread into her hand, "What are yours?"

"Honestly, I think it doesn't matter what _we_ believe, Sansa, it matters what our people do," Jon replied, leaning back on one arm in the afternoon sun, "I don't know much about this, apparently this kind of thing hasn't happened in about a thousand years. I suppose that whole thing about a Stark always being in Winterfell was true and I agree with you that the whole idea of feasts and fertility dances seems a little _awkward,_ but we are now the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. And as much as I hate to count on what other people think, in this situation, if we _don't_ do this—it could hurt us—both politically and socially. Families might see any misfortune that comes after our refusal of such an event as a sign of weakness—weakness that makes us vulnerable to our enemies in their eyes. So, in this situation, I think we should swallow our pride and put our besting dancing feet forward."

"You know you sounded like father when you said that just now..." Sansa said, raising an eyebrow

"Gods, I did, _didn't I?"_ Jon replied, then chuckled as he held out his empty goblet, "Pass the wine."

Sansa laughed softly and held out the bottle over Jon's goblet and poured, then when she pulled back, eyed the remaining liquid at the halfway mark, "If Tyrion Lannister could see me now..."

"How's that?" Jon narrowed his eyes curiously

"Tryion always seemed to think that wine was the solution to _any problem."_

"Hmmm..." Jon smirked behind his goblet before he took another sip from his goblet than said, "Can't argue with him there. Did you ever notice if Davos drinks?"

Sansa frowned, sensing where he was going with the question, "Sadly, he doesn't."

"Damn," Jon teased, "Then I suppose getting him drunk and forcing him to turn the banquet into a celebration to honor some obscure God that people can only pray to in their small clothes is out of the question..."

"Seems so..." Sansa replied in good humor and Jon shrugged

"Well," Jon sighed, taking another, "I suppose we will have to go through with it then."

"Easy for you to say," Sansa said between chews, "You don't have to dance with someone with two left feet, as I recall."

" _Hey_!" Jon cried, offended, then threw a date at her and Sansa laughed as she ducked it and it hit the grass behind her.

"These two left feet saved you once, if _I_ recall, Sansa Stark."

Sansa's eyes softened and her laughing subsided, "I haven't forgotten. And I'm sure they'll save me again during this ridiculous charade."

And a silence fell between them for a moment as Jon's face soften"ed and a small smirk crossed his mouth, " _Always."_

Sansa smiled as she displaced the bottle of wine from her lap, then slid over to his side and picked up another strawberry and popped it into his mouth.

Then, leaning forward, kissed him softly on the cheek.

# # # # # # #

"Perhaps, we should head back…it appears we have a 'fertility banquet' to plan…" Sansa, teased, brushing her hands on the bottom of her dress, a few minutes later when their lunch had concluded, but Jon quickly took her hand before she could get up.

"Wait. Not yet," he smirked, his eyes dancing with conspiracy in them as he sat up and jerked his head toward the lake, "Let's got for a swim…like we used to when we were young."

Sansa gave a small smile in return, but then her face fell slightly and she slowly pulled her hand out of Jon's grasp.

"I—I don't know…" she said, trying to keep her voice even as she looked down to the folded hands in her lap, considering his proposal.

"What's wrong?" Jon questioned, narrowing his eyes as he sat back on his heels, "Robb and I taught you how to swim—"

Jon suddenly stopped and his eyes turned sad when he realized what was really holding her back.

"I'm _sorry,_ Sansa. I should have been more sensitive than that—"

"It's alright," Sansa said, leaning forward and touching his arm

But, Jon slid toward her on the blanket, closing the distance between them as he responded, cupping her face gently in his hands, "No. It _isn't,_ Sansa. I truly _am sorry_."

Sansa's heart melted at the look of love and remorse in his eyes and she nodded, "I don't know why I should be so shy…" she said softly, "Last night I was willing to let you undress me and _now_ —"

"That was piece by piece, Sansa. We would go slow and if you wanted to keep something on, it would stay on…" Jon replied, kissing the top of her head, "This would be different."

"Maybe…" Sansa said tentatively then looked up at him, "Maybe…if you went first?"

Jon's eyes widened in surprise and he opened his mouth to speak, but Sansa interjected, "Please, Jon. I can't hide forever. I _should_ do this—"

"But, you don't _have to_ …" Jon replied, protesting

"I know," Sansa said, "But I _want to_. Besides," she continued, "It's just swimming, right? If I can't get through swimming in front of my husband unclothed, how am I ever going to actually lay with him?"

Jon raised an eyebrow

"It's fine. _Truly,_ I promise," Sansa smiled reassuringly and Jon nodded.

Sansa sat back on the blanket and watched as Jon stood and slowly removed his belt and handed her his sword. She lay it gently on the blanket beside her, then watched him remove his arm braces and his leather camise…then the white tunic underneath.

Suddenly, Sansa couldn't hold her breath anymore and it came out in a quiet gasp as she beheld the multiple scars scattered on Jon's chest and torso as he discarded the rest of his clothes on the ground behind him.

Then, as if a string was suddenly pulling them together, Sansa immediately came to her feet and closed the distance between them, their eyes never leaving each other.

Sansa waited another moment before she tentatively reached out to touch the top most of his scars, the one just above his left pectoral, as if hypnotized.

But, Jon's hands are swift and he caught her hand before her fingers could reach his skin.

He doesn't say anything, but his eyes seemed to plead with her to touch him and not to touch him all at the same time.

"Jon…" Sansa whispered, her eyes softening, "If I can't touch them, tell me about them…"

"I already did," Jon swallowed, "There are seven scars—one for each of the men of the Nights Watch who stabbed me and left me for dead."

"But, _this_ is the one that still hurts the most…" Jon whispered, then turned and showed Sansa his back as he brought his right hand to indicate a small scar right behind his left shoulder blade.

"An arrow?" Sansa asked, narrowing her eyes

"Shot by someone who loved me," Jons replied trying to keep his voice even, "Actually, she shot three arrows, but only one left a scar," then he scoffed, "Appropriate that it was right above the heart, don't you think?"

"I like this girl," Sansa smirked, "May I ask _why_ she shot you?"

"I told her the truth," Jon said, closing his eyes, "I told her that I was going to leave her—that I still had a mission to fulfill to the Night's Watch…" suddenly, he turned back to Sansa and she could see the tears starting to well in his eyes, "I put to duty before love…and, in the end, she _died_ …and I _lived…_ and I swore never to do that again."

"Get shot?" Sansa asked, then gave a small smile, "Because, I think if you tried to leave me, Jon, I'd probably put a few arrows in you, myself."

"I don't doubt you would," Jon smirked then said softly, "But, you know what I mean."

"I do," Sansa whispered, "Because you are already _doing it,_ Jon. You're honoring her in the best way possible by keeping your word to me."

Jon nodded then took in a shallow breath, "Thank you for letting me tell you about her. I'm sure it's not easy for you to hear..."

"As if me telling you about what Ramsay did to me, was easy to hear?" Sansa replied, but Jon stayed silent, unsure what to say

"You loved her," Sansa continued, "And every bit of love and pain that has touched you has made you who you are today, Jon, and I'm _grateful_ for that. I'm grateful to her, too."

Jon's eyes softened, then he watched Sansa finally bring her hands to his chest and exhaled sharply when her fingers touched the top most of his scars.

Sansa then leaned forward and kissed the scar tissue there, Jon closing his eyes as she moved her lips to the next scar, then the next, slowly working her way down his torso.

"Wha—what are you doing?" Jon whispered, feeling the heat rise under his skin

"I'm kissing them," Sansa said against his skin, "and making them better."

Jon smirked, then said, "They're already healed, Sansa."

"They'll never be healed," Sansa said, "Not really. And a few kisses from your wife won't hurt in any case—"

"No," Jon smiled, opening his eyes, "They won't. But, they might enable _other things_ …"

When she had finished, Sansa straightened to face him and Jon immediately closed the distance between them and kissed her passionately.

Suddenly, Jon pulled her up into his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist, their kiss deepening as he walked forward across the blanket and pinned her gently up against the bark of the nearby tree.

"Jon…" Sansa whispered when their lips finally parted, her eyes like blue flame as they bore into his, "I don't want to go swimming anymore…"

Jon smirked, "Ditto."

Sansa laughed then gasped as Jon's lips came to her neck and his hand lifted her skirts to pleasure her.

"Jon…" Sansa suddenly whispered, her voice full of passion, "I think if we are going to go through with this ridiculous banquet, we should at least give our people _something_ to celebrate."

"What?" Jon gasped, his eyes soft, but surprise as he pulled his lips from her neck and studied her face carefully

"Make love to me?" Sansa whispered, her eyes wanton, " _Here._ I want you to—"

"Sansa," Jon replied, his voice soft as he brought a free hand to stroke her cheek gently, "No—"

"Please, Jon," Sansa interjected, bringing her hands to rest on his bare chest, "I want this—I want _you_ —"

"I want you too," Jon responded immediately, "But, what about—"

"The visions will come…or they won't," Sansa said, shaking her head, "But, we'll never know until we actually _try_. Please, Jon, can we please just _try_. I don't want to wait forever...or even for tonight."

"We _will, Sansa_ ," Jon added, "But, you're my wife—the love of my life—you deserve it to happen someplace other than a forest—"

"What better place than here?" Sansa interjected, her eyes still pleading, "Please, Jon. I'd rather it be here in the woods of our childhood full of wonderful memories, than in a bed—a bed that has already produced one nightmare vision. I want to see you in front of me, not above me—my husband, my equal, the man I love… _Please_ …"

Jon swallowed, then exhaled, the thumb of his right hand still tracing gently over Sansa's flushed cheek under her eye as he considered her proposal.

Finally, he nodded his consent and Sansa smiled a broad smile.

But, the smile didn't stay long, her eyes suddenly diluted with pleasure as she felt Jon's other hand continue his ministrations under her skirt.

" _But,_ your clothes stay on until next time…" he whispered seductively in her ear

"Agreed…" Sansa breathed out then moaned softly as she felt him find her folds and start to massage her clit, closing her eyes.

But, suddenly Jon said in a gentle, but commanding voice, " _Look at me._ "

And they immediately snapped open and she looked into her husband's soft brown eyes as he whispered against her lips, "Just, tell me when and if you want to stop…and we'll stop, alright?"

Sansa nodded, then said, "But for now, _don't stop_."

Jon smiled as Sansa leaned forward and captured his lips in a deep kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

Sansa closed her eyes, trying to keep her breathing even so that her heart would stop beating so loud in her ears—beating with a mixture of arousal, anticipation and fear.

 _Jon…_ she whispered in the back of her mind, as she slowed her breathing and tried to just focus just on her husband and the open mouth kisses Jon now trailed down her neck as his hands moved sensually up her thighs, opening her to him slowly and gently as he repositioned her against the tree.

Though her body was in a state of bliss from the two orgasms Jon had already brought her to with just his talented fingers alone, her mind was moving a million miles a minute.

Sansa continued to focus on her breathing as she waited for what would happen next, trying to only focus on the good that was happening and not let her fears move to the surface.

She shut her eyes tighter and suddenly found herself standing in the middle of the Great Hall at Winterfell, the familiar sights and sounds of a feast surrounding her—the clattering of eating, the sounds of laughter and loud jests and instrumental music lofting in the air.

Sansa wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, suddenly finding herself standing alone in the middle of the dance floor among a sea of dancing people and celebration.

Suddenly, a hand appeared in front of her—an offering—a way out.

Sansa turned and immediately came face to face with Jon, his gentle smiling face and his kind eyes.

He was much younger, with a clean shaven face and a mop of dark curly hair.

She then, realized that she was younger, too.

It was a memory.

She was remembering the first night she felt something other than brotherly affection for Jon Snow—the night he saved her from embarrassment at Joffrey's hands when he left her in the middle of the dance floor at the Mikelmus feast.

Sansa took in a short breath and gently placed her hand in his, returning his smile with a grateful one of her own.

But, the second their skin touched, Sansa opened her eyes and found herself back in the present as she felt Jon enter her body.

The feeling was strange and pleasurable all at the same time. The only strange thing about it, really was that it wasn't painful as it was every time she was with Ramsay.

She had been expecting pain, but as always, Jon did everything he could not to hurt her.

Jon's dark eyes focused on her for a long moment as he tried to control his own breathing before he whispered, "Are you alright?"

Sansa nodded and gave a small smirk before she leaned in and kissed him deeply, anchoring her arms around his shoulders as he slowly began to move within her in the same languid motion as their kisses.

Sansa closed her eyes again and suddenly, she and Jon were facing each other in the Great Hall, standing in lines on opposite side of the room from each other as everyone formed up for the next dance.

As the music began to play, the lines moved toward each other and Sansa and Jon locked eyes as she brought her right hand up to meet his left and their palms touched lightly as they turned around each other, once, then twice.

Then they separated and stepped back from each other before they stepped forward again and the men lifted the ladies in one swift motion, turning them around in a circle before replacing them back on their feet.

Sansa opened her eyes again in the present as Jon released her lips and she locked eyes with him, their bodies moving together sensually against the tree.

"I love you…" he whispered before bringing his forehead to rest against hers and Sansa closed her eyes again….

Soon, she was back in the Great Hall, holding hands with Jon, following his lead and they dance with the line of people to one end of the hall, then separated into smaller circles and switched partners by having random people take turns meeting in the middle of the circle, pirouetting around each other before moving back to the outer ring to let the next couple come to the center.

After she and Jon separated, Sansa pirouetted with Eron Mandlay, then they parted and the circle shifted.

Sansa's eyes looked around for Jon, her heart beating with anticipation.

Suddenly, she realized it was her turn again, but her heart suddenly stopped when she danced to the center of the circle and came face to face with Ramsay Bolton, his wicked smile and cold eyes focused on her as they pirouetted around each other and then he disappeared back into the circle.

Sansa had to swallow back the bile that immediately came up to her throat as she moved back to her place in the circle, wrapping her arms around herself to keep herself from shaking, absent-mindedly following everyone else in the circle and their steps.

"Sansa…" Jon's words brought her back to reality and Sansa opened her eyes, feeling her husband's gentle fingers brushing her face, and realized she was crying.

She could feel Jon still beneath her, but stay within her, seemingly waiting for her.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked, his own eyes filled with worry, "Did I hurt you?"

"No….." Sansa whispered, shaking her head, "I'm fine—"

"You're crying…" Jon replied, then made a move to pull back, "You're _not fine_ , Sansa. This was a mistake—"

"No…" Sansa said, holding tight to his shoulders, "You stay right where you are Jon Stark. I swear if you leave me in this moment, I'm going run you through with that sword lying there on the blanket," then raised an eyebrow, "And you know I'll do it, too."

"Sansa," Jon protested gently, "It's _alrigh_ t, I know it's hard to forget—"

"Then kiss me, Jon," Sansa said softly, "Keep making love to me and _make me forget_ …."

Jon met her gaze for a long moment then leaned closer to her, their chests falling against each other and Sansa let out a breath as she felt his heart pounding hard in his chest against hers.

Soon, Jon was kissing her passionately and Sansa moaned into his mouth as he continued thrusting into her slowly, cradling her in his arms and keeping her safe, the waves of her pleasure swelling inside her as she closed her eyes once more.

Back in her mind, Sansa turned from the circle, frightened and confused, but immediately ran into a tall, muscular figure and realized that the circle had broken and the free dance was coming up where they were reunited with their partners.

Sansa looked up into Jon's soft brown eyes as he took her left hand into his right at chest level, then took her right hand into his left and, giving her a reassuring smile, raised it above their heads as they began to waltz around the room, any thoughts of her encounter with Ramsay Bolton quickly dissipating.

After a few steps, Jon lowered their hands and spun Sansa under his arm, twice, their eyes never leaving each other as he brought her back to him and their faces came within inches of each other, lighting Sansa's insides on fire as he brought her into a low, controlled dip, then brought her back up.

They parted again and pirouetted around each other, then came back together again, their hands out in front of them as they touched palms and the electricity between them ignited as they moved forward, then backward, then forward again…

Sansa opened her eyes in the present and found herself breathless and looking up to the afternoon sun as the waves crested inside her and then broke as her orgasm rushed over her.

# # # # # # #

Lord Davos took in a deep breath as he stood under the portcullis watching Sansa and Jon walk arm and arm through the field toward the castle.

He studied them for a long time, giving a small smile as he watched Sansa laugh at something Jon said, then her head fall against his shoulder as he kissed her forehead.

When they finally reached the path and moved closer, Davos took a deep breath and stepped forward and walked out to meet them, the smile fading from his face.

This was going to be interesting news to deliver.

# # # # # # # #

"Thank you, Gaya," Sansa nodded to her hand maiden as the young woman curtsied in the doorway then shut the door behind her as she left.

"A feast to honor our father on the anniversary of his death…" Jon scoffed angrily as he sat on the bed in their chambers and pulled on his dress boots, "I can't believe Baelish organized this without telling us. Only _we_ know that he hated our father with _a passion_ …and of course he's invited _all_ the Northern families to this pitiful excuse for a memorial—"

"You're preaching to the choir, Jon," Sansa said as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and, giving herself one last look over in the mirror, turned on her heel and walked toward him, "Littlefinger has been doing things like this to me for years, I was just too naïve to see it for what it really was until recently…"

Jon slipped on his second boot and sighed, then looked up as Sansa appeared in front of him.

"That it's all a play for power that would look like he's trying to help, but instead, only leaves everyone involved lying face down in the dirt where they all slowly suffocate to death?"

Sansa raised an eyebrow and nodded, then turned her back to him.

"Lace me up?" she asked over her shoulder and Jon smoothly came to his feet from the edge of the bed and pulled the back of her bronze gown together, then began cinching it as gently as he could, tying the laces together up her spine.

"Sansa, I only tolerate his presence here because he is more or less Robin Arryn's regent and the Knights of the Vale listen to him …" Jon said, concentrating on pulling the laces.

"And while we wait for the Night King to make his move, we need the Knights of the Vale here," Sansa finished

Jon nodded as he pulled the top of the dress together and finished tying the laces through, then leaned forward and kissed the back of Sansa's neck.

Sansa closed her eyes for a long moment, then turned back to face him, taking his face gently into her hands.

"Jon, we'll get through this night. It's a test— _just a test_ —and one that I'm sure you'll pass. Remember that you are still a Stark by blood…" she looked down, "Littlefinger always had plans for me. This is my fault—I'm sure that while he remains here, he will always try to call into question your legitimacy by bringing up subjects that will bring questions to the minds of the dis-satisfied families—"

"Sansa, this _isn't_ your fault…" Jon smirked, brought his hands up to his face to rest gently over his wife's, "Don't say that. And you're _too_ kind. Just admit it. Those families see me as _weak_ , just as Baelish does. Luckily there are very few of them. They believe I belong with my kind, not start my own family in this house and rule over their lands. As soon as the Northern families discovered my true parentage—courtesy of Littlefinger no less—most stayed loyal but they still can't ignore the fact that in the back of their minds they think my bloodline weak. The Targaryens have a history of mental instability and unpredictability—"

"That is the _Targaryens,_ Jon," Sansa interjected, lowering her hands out of his grasp and looking up to meet his gaze again, "That's not _you._ You were raised a Stark. You will _always be_ a Stark. Don't put stock in a family that was never your true family. You have your father's blood, it's true, but your mother's blood runs strong in your veins as well and she was beloved in this part of Westeros. Just remember who you are and we'll beat Littlefinger at his own game. It will take time, perhaps, and this is just the first blow, but he'll know that _we_ are not weak."

"How?" Jon asked in disbelief, narrowing his eyes

"By standing _united,_ by me showing him that _nothing_ will ever turn me against you for my own gain and, _most importantly_ , by continuing to make the North remember that you may have the blood of Rhaegar Targaryen, but that you were raised by Lord Eddard Stark," Sansa leaned forward and placed her hands gently on Jon's chest, "Don't worry. I've already talked to Lyanna Mormont. If there is _anyone_ who can put the fear of God in your doubters it's _her._ "

"She's eleven," Jon smirked

"A _very scary_ eleven year old who seems to be an excellent judge of character..." Sansa smirked back

"How's that?" Jon asked, curious,

"She likes _you_ doesn't she?" Sansa replied, then kissed his cheek and walked back toward her vanity, "That's something."

# # # # # # #

The night seemed to go smoothly.

Lord and Lady Stark of Winterfell , King and Queen of the North, were introduced and swept into the Great Hall in all their finery and were placed at the head table as the feast commenced.

After the meal and about an hour of casual conversation with their guests, Lord Peter Baelish stood from his place at one of the tables near the front of the room and clanked his glass for attention.

Jon visibly tensed and Sansa placed a gentle hand on his arm to keep him calm.

"Now that we've feasted, we come to the sobering realization of why we've gathered here today and that is to remember the great man who once sat at the head of this Great Hall, Lord Eddard Stark…"

Sansa tried to keep a placid face, but seethed underneath when she saw the look of contempt in Littlefinger's eyes for her father, the man he was attempting to praise.

Finally, she couldn't handle it anymore and took in a short breath, then rose to interrupt Lord Baelish before he could continue.

His face was priceless.

"Thank you, Lord Baelish, for your kind words. However, _we,_ " she gestured to Jon next to her, "as Ned Stark's children, know better than _anyone_ who our father was and will now speak to his memory."

Lord Baelish hid his embarrassment well and bowed to Sansa loyally, then sat down.

"He was a great man," Sansa continued, "But, he was not a _perfect man_ and never claimed to be. For years, he sacrificed his honor to protect his sister and her son and raised the boy as his own. He defended your lands by fighting unpopular wars and rebellions for a King that he considered his friend and whose son later betrayed him."

Sansa took a breath, the horrific memory of her father's beheading at Joffrey's command, bringing a small amount of bile up in to her throat. But, she swallowed it back and then continued, trying to keep her voice even.

"We have not forgotten, Lord Baelish, nor will we _ever_ that Lord Eddard Stark sat in this chair before us along with my mother at his side, nor will we forget his words to us as his children…'Winter is Coming.'"

Sansa paused then, scanning the faces of the heads of all the families before continuing once more, "There _is_ a war coming—the Night King _is coming_ —and Jon, like my father before him, is not infallible, is not perfect, but he kind and he is strong and he is just. He knows the way of the North. He's lived here his entire life and he remembers what the North does— _all_ that the North does. He deserves our respect and our trust. He already has _mine._ "

Sansa met Peter Baelish's eyes and immediately saw something shift in them as Lord Baelish straightened his posture and his hand tightened around his goblet.

There was a long silence, Sansa standing there before the families, until Lady Lyanna Mormont stood up and nodded to Sansa.

Sansa smiled at Lyanna, then lowered herself into the chair at her husband's side.

"Jon Stark was raised by the Warden of the North—that is all I need to know. Stark blood runs in his vein and Ned Stark's memory lingers in his heart and his thoughts—that is all I need to know," Lyanna said, her dark eyes scanning the room.

She paused for a moment, then turned and locked eyes with Jon before she continued, "He knows the sacred song…in fact, he was the one who taught it to _me_. What Targaryen would know that?"

A murmur immediately broke out among the crowd and as their voices rose, Peter Baelish looked around the room in confusion and Sansa tried hard not to look pleased to see him squirm.

"Ned Stark would not have shared that with just a bastard, but with someone who was a true Northerner—someone with Northern _blood_ and a Northern _soul._ "

Jon Snow immediately stood and Lyanna Mormont made a move to sit, but Jon held up a hand to stop her and she remained standing.

"Lady Lyanna is right," Jon said, "Lord Eddard Stark, the man I will always consider my true father, taught me many things including the sacred song so that I will never forget where I came from and who I _truly was._ It was as he sang those words to me as a child, that I knew that I wasn't _just_ a bastard, I mattered to him. He saw a future for me and knew that no matter where I went in this life,that the North would _always_ be my home. And it is. So, right now, I don't wish to make grand speeches or hear grand speeches as to who my father was and how I will never live up to Lord Eddark Stark as a man or as a ruler," he glanced at Littlefinger and he could see the gears turning in his eyes, "Because I never will. Tonight, I only wish to pay tribute to his memory in the way only a Northerner _can_ —not a Targaryen or any other house —a _true Northerner_. Not with spoken words, but with song. Therefor, Lady Lyanna will lead us in the 'Song of Exile' —a song sung by Northerners during Roberts Rebellion and has special meaning for all of us now, years after Lord Stark's death."

With that Jon sat down and nodded to Lady Lyanna.

She nodded back then in a sweet, clear voice began to sing.

"Land of wolf, bear and eagle, Land that gave us birth and blessing…Land that called us ever homewards, so we will go home across the mountains. We will go home, we will go home. We will go home a across the mountains. We will go home, we will go home. We will go home across the mountains…"

Suddenly, the heads of the Northern families all stood out of respect, bowing their heads as Lyanna continued, "Land of freedom, land of heroes, Land that gave us hope and memories...Hear our singing, hear our longing. We will go home across the mountains. We will go home, we will go home. We will go home across the mountains. We will go home, we will go home. We will go home across the mountains…"

Sansa's hand slid into Jon's under the table and Jon looked over to her with a small smile, his face softening as he now saw the single tear that streaked down her cheek.

She was thinking of her father, as he was, remembering how he used to sing the song to them while holding them at night, trying to get them to sleep when they had had a nightmare or tucking them in at sunset and kissing their foreheads or when he took them on adventures in the woods and needed a song to pass the time.

Suddenly, the sound of Lord Mandlay's voice carried around the hall, pulling Jon and Sansa's thoughts back to the present as he joined Lady Lyanna in her singing.

"Land of sun, Land of moonlight, Land that gave us joy and sorrow. Land that gave us love and laughter. We will go home across the mountains…"

Suddenly, Sansa smiled over at Jon again when the other families starting joining in.

"We will go home, we will go home. We will go home across the mountains. We will go home, we will go home. We will go home across the mountains…"

Sansa squeezed Jon's hand and they both stood together and sang the last verse with the rest of the families.

"When our land is finally there before us, Then we have gone home across the mountains. We are now home, we are now home. We have gone home across the mountains. We have gone home, we have gone home. We have gone home across the mountains…"

When they were finished, a moment of silence fell over the Great Hall before Lady Lyanna Mormont spoke.

"The North Remembers…" she said in a reverent tone

"The North Remembers…" the others responded automatically

Jon then returned the nods of support of several heads of the families, including those who were thought to still harbor doubts, before they sat down and Jon signaled for the musicians to come forward and start playing to signal time for dancing.

As the Great Hall fills with the sounds of conversation and music again, Sansa allows her eyes to wander to Lord Peter Baelish who has left his seat at the table and is now exiting the hall, trying to make a quiet getaway.

As if sensing her eyes on him, Littlefinger turned slowly to face her from the threshold.

For a long moment, their eyes meet across the room, seemingly in the same way they did four weeks earlier, when Jon was named the King in the North.

Only this time, it was Sansa who smirked devilishly at Peter and Peter whose face fell.


	7. Chapter 7

Sansa smiled as she passed the dancers in the center of the floor and moved through the crowd on the edges to the large circle of lords surrounding her husband and king.

When she entered the circle and touched her husband's shoulder, suddenly twelve pairs of eyes were on her and the conversation quickly stopped.

The Lords of the North bowed their heads respectfully to Lady Sansa and she gave a short nod back, then said, "If I might borrow your King for a few moments?"

Three of the Lords grumbled but the rest smiled politely or in amusement at the thought of their new young king and queen sneaking off to snog or do other things besides converse with one another.

As Jon nodded to the Lords to take his leave from the circle, he offered Sansa his arm and soon they had left the crowded room and music behind, ducking in to a small side hall that led out toward main entrance hall staircase.

Jon looked back over his shoulder, then up ahead to make sure the coast was clear before gently turning to Sansa and spinning her toward the stone wall, his body trapping her as his face lingered over hers for a moment, a small conspiratorial smile crossing his face before he leaned in whispered against her lips.

"Why did you wish to speak to me? Miss me already?"

Sansa smiled back, then nodded as she leaned in and kissed him passionately, running her hands through his dark hair as she pulled his body closer to her.

After a few moments Jon pulled away breathlessly, then leaned his forehead against her and kissed her nose.

Sansa sighed contented, closing her eyes and relishing her husband's proximity for a moment before she said, "Now that that is out of the way, I wanted to tell you that I'm going to retire for the evening."

Jon let out a sigh of his own, but it was more out of discouragement, then contentment.

"I only wish I could come with you…" he said as he pulled back to face her, his dark eyes meeting her blue as she reopened her own, "If only to just hold you while you fall asleep…"

Sansa smiled as Jon ran a gentle hand over her cheek.

"But, alas, I'm afraid I must return to the Lords. There are matters they wish to attend to tonight instead of letting their king retire to his quarters to show his new wife how much he truly loves her—"

"It's _alright,"_ Sansa said with a chuckle, bringing her right hand to brush over the seal engraved on the sword strap across Jon's chest that bore the emblem of the House of Stark, "It's a _good thing,_ Jon. They trust you enough now to talk to you as an equal, not just as their King, and have faith in your judgement. That's how it was with father, remember? How many times did he hold a formal tribunal of the nobles to hear cases for the Warden of the North's judgment?"

Jon smirked and nodded in agreement as Sana continued, "You are showing them in the _best way_ that you are just as strong a character and just as worthy of a leader as he was. Besides," she smirked herself as she traced her fingers up to his collar, then his neck and cupped the side of his face, "As you said before, we have the rest of our lives to make love. One night won't _kill us_."

Jon raised an eyebrow, "In all fairness, I spoke that before I knew what _exactly_ it was that I was missing."

Sansa blushed then a small smile crossed her lips as she leaned up on her tip toes and gently kissed Jon.

"I'll see you in the morning, Lord Stark," she whispered as their lips parted

Jon groaned softly, his eyes still closed as he relished her proximity, then before Sansa could pull all the way back, he reflexively reached around her waist and pulled her back to him, kissing her passionately, deepening their kiss for a few long moments.

When their lips finally parted, he said softly, slowly opening his eyes, "It'll be before then, I promise you."

# # # # # # #

Sansa smiled to in elation and anticipation as she closed the door to her chambers and leaned back against the wood thoughtfully for a few moments.

"You know," a male voice suddenly said, causing Sansa to nearly jump out of her skin, "There was a time a when I would have given anything to see you smiling like that when thinking about me…"

Startled, Sansa looked up and saw Lord Peter Baelish sitting cross-legged on the edge of her bed, a crooked smile on his lips.

But, to her credit, Sansa didn't shrink, she remained strong and in control of her emotions, straightening, her blue eyes turning cold.

"You have exactly five minutes before I scream and bring Brianne and the Knights and Lords loyal to my husband to this room—"

"I'll only need two," Baelish interjected, assuring her as he folded his hands in his lap

"Your time begins now," Sansa said sternly, pushing herself off of the door and stepping forward to hear what he has to say.

"What are you doing here, Sansa?" Baeliish asked, narrowing his eyes on her

"I don't understand what you mean?" Sansa replied, genuinely confused

" _Here,_ " Baelish emphasized, "At Winterfell playing house with your cousin, the bastard. I thought I taught you better than that—I thought you wanted _more_ than that—"

"You're just saying this because you are _cornered_ ," Sansa interjected, "Because Jon and I saw your game a move ahead and played your bluff and now that you can't stir up the nobles against Jon, you're going things from a different angle…." She sighed as she kicked off her shoes and unwrapped her shawl from her shoulders, " _Me._ It's _always, me_. _"_

"Sansa—" Baelish began with a sigh, but Sansa continued

"You know, you didn't seem to mind my 'playing house' with Joffrey Baratheon or Ramsey Bolton. And you didn't seem to care that Joffrey wanted to deflower me in the most _brutal_ way or that Ramsey _actually did_ …" Sansa said haughtily as she wrapped her shawl angrily around her fists, then threw it hard against the wall

Baelish closed his eyes in pain at her words, but immediately recovered and reopened them when he heard Sansa take a seat in a nearby chair in front of her vanity.

"I told you that I was sorry about Ramsey—I _didn't know_ —" Baelish started, but Sansa held up a hand to silence him and he immediately fell silent

Sansa's hand then became a fist as she brought it down gently to her side, then moved up and removed the necklace from around her neck as she continued, "What do you have to say to me besides _insult my marriage_ —a marriage I forged for _myself_ without _your help_ ," Sansa emphasized, looking at him through the mirror's reflection as she lay the necklace on the vanity, then reached for the earrings on her earlobes.

"Marriage to a Targaryen," Baelish countered

"A Targaryen who is now known as Stark…and who has _always_ been a Stark to the people of this realm…" Sansa said, placing the second earring down hard on the vanity and turning around in her chair to face Littlefinger, then lifted an eyebrow, "And you declared for House Stark remember?"

"I declared for House Stark because of _you,_ to stand behind _you,_ not the bastard of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. You should have taken your father's title for yourself instead of handing it over to a man like him—"

"Be careful how you speak," Sansa immediately warned, her eyes narrowing, "You are speaking of Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King of the North…and he is _my husband_."

"Husbands are fickle…. easy to come by…easy to manipulate…" Baelish smirked, " _Like power._ "

Sansa flared her nostrils, "What do you want from me?"

" _Want_?" Baelish breathed, his face falling as he scoffed, seemingly hurt, "I don't want _anything_ from you, Sansa. I want _everything_ … _for you_. Don't you see that? Did you _ever_ see that? I am not what is at stake here—it's _you_ , Sansa…it's always been _you_. You're the one—"

"I don't believe you," Sansa said, her face softening, "Maybe I did…once. But, not now…and not _ever again_ …" she closed her eyes, "Take the Iron throne if that is your destiny and desire, Lord Baelish…leave this place, but know that I will _never_ be your ally again…and I will certainly _never_ sit at _your side_ in King's Landing—"

"So you would rather sit at your husband's side? _Here?_ In the most desolate place in the Seven Kingdoms…be his wife and live an un-extraordinary life until you die an ordinary death…when you were meant for _so much more_."

"But I _want_ an _ordinary life_!" Sansa cried, "After all I've been through…all I've _suffered_. I _deserve it!_ I want the life my mother and father had! _Not_ the life of Cersei and Robert Baratheon! And certainly not a life with _you_ after what you have done to me— _"_

"Sansa, this _isn't_ just about you and me…of course, there was always this thought that you would—" Baelish stopped, then back-tracked, "This is about _you..._.becoming the person you are meant to be. Nothing less."

"I—I'm not the one," Sansa retorted, "I'm _not_ —"

"I beg to differ…" Baelish countered, his eyes honest and solemn, "I _saw it_. The day that I killed your aunt and you lied for me…the day you first played the Game of Thrones and saw what was coming, three moves ahead of everyone else. We had a vision together and we could have that again…"

Sansa's face went placid and she straightened in her chair, looking down to her hands as she wrapped them tightly around the wood. He had called her bluff.

"You never give up," Sansa said softly, then raised her eyes to meet Baelish's, "I _still_ play the game, but it's defensive now… _not offensive._ To protect myself…and my husband."

Lord Baelish met Sansa's eyes for a long moment before she said, "I _love him,_ Peter…Anything I wanted in the past is immaterial now. Jon _wants this...this life..._ and so do I. He gave up the Iron Throne and when he did, I did to. I traded my dreams of revenge for _new dreams_ …and I'm _not sorry."_

Lord Baelish seemed started by Sansa using his first name for a moment, before Baelish closed his eyes, then unfolded his hands and stood, memories of Caitlin Stark suddenly flooding his mind.

He swallowed as he steadied himself then turned toward Sansa, his arms falling to his side as he bowed his head to her in a gesture of loyalty.

"It seems my two minutes are up," he said as he straightened himself again, "But, know that my lady will always have my help whenever it is required. I am forever your servant and a servant of the House Stark… for whatever that is worth now."

The he turned on his heel and started walking toward the door.

"Lord Baelish," Sansa said, turning in her chair and watched as Baelish stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Your Knights of the Vale won my husband his throne and the loyalty of his subjects. That will never be forgotten...nor will your kindness to me when I was an abandoned scared girl...but, I've made my decision...I'm sorry."

Baelish turned slowly on his heel to face her, then looked down to the signet ring on his right hand and after twisting it gently on his finger, removed it.

He walked slowly forward and laid it on the wood vanity next to Sansa, then lingered as he said, "You'll _always_ be that girl to me...but remember to never let emotions overcome you like they did tonight. Don't make that mistake."

Sansa closed her eyes at his words

"Just remember that a true queen," Baelish said, leaning closer, whispering into her ear, " _Never_ apologizes to even her most loyal of subjects...or the most vial in her eyes, who she never hopes to forgive, but so often finds she _still needs. "_

Then he pulled back and their eyes locked for a moment before Baelish said in a more commanding voice, "Give up on your dreams, on _our dreams,_ if you must. But, if you are a dutiful wife, Sansa, don't give up on your father's dreams...your father's dreams for Jon Snow."

Sansa opened her mouth to speak, stunned by his words, but Lord Baelish simply turned on his heel and headed toward the door to her chambers.

"Time is up!" he called over his shoulder


	8. Chapter 8

Sansa's eyes lingered on the door to her bedchambers for a few long minutes after Lord Peter Baelish had closed it behind him.

Finally, she took in a steadying breath, trying to calm her racing heart as she cast her eyes down to the ring he had left on her vanity, mere inches from her left hand.

She closed her eyes and balled that same hand into a fist, trying to decide if having Peter Baelish so close to her again made her tremble…or made her completely nauseous.

When she couldn't decide, she sighed in frustration and unclenched her fist, bringing it to rest over the wolf pendant around her neck.

Sansa took in a deep breath...

And then another...

Suddenly, her eyes opened when she heard the bedroom door open.

Brianne swiftly entered the room, holding a steady hand over the hilt of her sword as she swept past the door.

"My Lady…" she inquired, looking around the room and relief immediately welling in her bright blue eyes, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Sansa said, but Brianne stiffened when she saw Sansa clutching the wolf pendant around her neck so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

"Sansa…" Brianne said slowly, swallowing, "I saw Peter Baelish in the hall outside your chambers just now…"

"He was just leaving…" Sansa whispered, her eyes glancing quickly over to the ring on the table.

"Did he harm you?" Brianne asked immediately, her eyes scanning Sansa for any sign

"No…" Sansa whispered, closing her eyes again, "He—"

"He… _what?_ " Brianne insisted, stepping forward

"He just…" Sansa started then stopped, shaking her head, " _It's nothing._ Forget it. I'm fine."

"You're clearly _not,_ My Lady," Brianne replied, then stepped back and turned on her heel toward the bedchamber door

Sansa immediately stood, knowing immediately Brianne's attention, "Brianne… _please…don't_ —don't do anything! The Knights of the Vale—"

"Still answer to the King of the North and so does Peter Baelish…" Brianne said, her eyes hardening, "As for doing anything…rest assured that I _won't._ That's what your husband is for."

# # # # # # # # # # # #

Jon laughed as he brought a stein of mead to his lips and watched with the other Lords as five men from a neighboring village did an elaborate circle dance and failed miserably, falling drunken over each other as the music playing and the crowd in the room showed no sign of tiring out.

Suddenly, Lord Baelish entered the great hall from the east wing…

Jon had taken notice of his absence earlier and now focused his eyes intensely on Littlefinger as he lowered the stein from his lips and his face fell, his mind wandered to Sansa.

Peter Baelish crossed the room, nervously rubbing the indentation on his pinky finger where his family insignia ring used to be. He then straightened his collar and turned toward the group commanders of the Knights from the Vale, circled at the end of one of the long tables in the far corner of the room.

Jon narrowed his eyes for a few moments then suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

When he turned he came face to face with Brianne of Tarth.

"Forgive me, My Lord, but I've just come from Lady Sansa—"

Jon didn't even wait for Brianne to finish. He immediately shoved his stein into her hands and took off across the room, moving hastily through the crowd toward Lord Baelish.

Without a word, he immediately grabbed Baelish by the neck from behind and threw him with almost inhuman strength up against the stone wall.

Baelish hit the stones so hard that it knocked him out and blood from his head streaked down the wall as he fell to the floor, his eyes fluttering as he struggled to remain conscious.

The music immediately stopped and the commanders of the Vale dropped their steins and stood as they now drew their swords.

Jon straightened as he turned toward them without an ounce of fear in his eyes.

"Lower your swords," Lord Davos suddenly said, coming to Jon's side, "You are guests in this realm…and guests do not raise their hand to the King of the North…for when they do, they don't just face _him…_ they face us _all._ "

The first commander of the Vale, looked around to the circle of castle guards, Brianne and several other Lords who now circled around them behind Jon.

"It's alright…" Peter Baelish now spoke up, struggling to his feet as he placed one hand on the wall to steady himself and another hand to the back of his head as he grimaced, then looked at the blood on his palm, "I can fight my own battles, gentlemen. Thank you."

Baelish then stepped toward Jon, walking past the commanders of the Knights of the Vale as he signaled for them to lower their weapons, then pressed his hand to the back of his bleeding head once more.

He smirked as his eyes squarely met Jon's, his voice lowering to a menacing tone, "You get this one for free, _Snow."_

"Come less than a foot from my wife again and I can almost guarantee you a permanent disability or more likely, _death_!" Jon retorted harshly

"I'll take that as a _challenge_ …" Peter replied, smirking, showing the bloodied hand from his head to Jon, "And next time, my blood won't be the only blood spilled."

Jon took a step forward, his face turning angry, but Davos grabbed his shoulder to still him.

Jon and Lord Baelish locked eyes for a long moment before Baelish narrowed his, then placing his hand on the back of his head again to keep his wound from bleeding, side- stepped and walked past Jon out of the hall, the commanders of the Vale sheathing their swords and following immediately behind.

# # # # # # # # # #

Sansa closed her eyes as she sat on the edge of her bed, having changed into her night dress, then slowly fell onto her side and pulled one side of the sheepskin blankets on the bed over her.

Suddenly, the bedchamber door flew open and Jon walked in.

Sansa opened her eyes and sat up immediately, the sheepskin still draped over her shoulders as she took in the sight of her husband.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked, breathless, his eyes worried

Sansa didn't answer, she immediately came to her feet and the blanket dropped from her shoulders onto the floor as she quickly moved forward and embraced him.

Jon sighed, content to hold her form in his arms as he closed his eyes.

"Brianne told me Littlefinger was here…" Jon replied, as he pulled back to look into his wife's face, "Did he hurt you?"

Sansa shook her head, but Jon felt her tremble in his arms and pulled her to his chest once more, holding her tightly to him.

"He _said_ things to me, Jon. He— _Gods help me_ …for a few moments he had me in his thrall again…." Sansa whispered then started to sob

Jon's breath hitched, but he held her closer to him.

"I promised no one would _ever_ touch you or harm you again…" Jon said softly, kissing the crown of her head, "And I _meant it_ —"

"But, he didn't lay a hand on me—" Sansa replied, pulling back and looking up to his face with tear stained eyes

"It doesn't matter. His words were enough…" Jon interjected, bringing a hand to wipe a streak of tears gently from under her left eye, "But, hopefully he'll think twice before he comes near you again."

"What did you do?" Sansa suddenly asked, her eyes narrowing

"I threw him against a stone wall…" Jon smirked, "Pretty hard, actually…I was angry and adrenaline might have played a large part in it… _"_

" _Oh…Jon_ …" Sansa chided, closing her eyes, "The Knights of the Vale—"

"Are still with us…and so is Baelish...at least, for now. I'm sure I'll have to watch my back, though- _"_

"Jon…" Sansa interjected, "But, what if—"

"Here is a 'what if'…" Jon countered, cutting her off and bringing his hands up to hold Sansa's face, looking down into her eyes, "What if my wife doesn't realize that _I love her_?" What if she doesn't realize that I put her first in all things and will protect her until the day I die? And that I don't care about alliances…that all I care about is _her._ "

Sansa gave a small smile, her heart melting under the soft gaze of his eyes.

"That would be a travesty, wouldn't it?" she said and she searched Jon's eyes as he leaned in

"Yes…it would be…" he whispered conspiratorially

Sansa didn't hesitate; she leaned forward too and gently captured his lips.

After a few moments, their kiss deepened and Jon effortlessly lifted her into his arms as she pushed his cloak from his shoulders and it fell softly onto the stone floor, then she pulled his leather sash over his head between kisses and tossed it aside as well and it landed in a nearby chair.

They continued to kiss passionately as Jon walked them over to the bed and he lay her down underneath him, crawling on top of her.

Sansa continued to kiss him as she made quick work of his vest and then his shirt, running her hands over his smooth, muscular chest as he finally shrugged it off.

When he was finally free, Jon lowered his lips to her jawline, planting kisses down her neck to her collarbone.

Jon then kissed the wolf pendant at the top of her chest.

When he lifted his head, his eyes met Sansa's for a long moment before he leaned forward and kissed her nose.

Sansa smiled, running her hands through his hair as she whispered, "Don't go back. Stay with me…"

"Always…" Jon whispered against her lips, then surged forward and kissed her passionately as Sansa worked on his pants and he reached out and started to pull the bed covers over them.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the bedchamber door.

They immediately froze.

"My Lord…" Davos' voice came from behind the heavy wood

Jon closed his eyes and slowly moved back from Sansa, coming to his knees on the bed, but Sansa quickly took hold of his forearms to stop him.

"Gives us just a minute," she said loud enough for Lord Davos to hear

"My Lord….My Lady….it's _quite urgent_ ," Davos insisted, knocking again

"Please, Davos!" Jon called, seeing the seductive look in Sansa's ice blue eyes

Then there was a sigh and a shuffle and they heard Lord Davos step back from the door.

Sansa smirked and gently pushed Jon back into a sitting positon near the end of the bed and slid into his lap, her eyes focused on his as she reached down and slowly continued to work on the buttons of his pants.

"What are you doing?" Jon whispered, his eyes glancing toward the door awkwardly

"Taking advantage of you before you leave me," Sansa replied with a devilish smile,

Jon opened his mouth to respond, but gave a small gasp as Sansa's mouth connected with his as she finally unbutton his pants and reached inside.

When their lips parted for a moment, Jon closed his eyes as he felt her hand wrap around his manhood.

" _Oh_ …you better do something, wife…or I will _never_ forgive you …." He whispered again, reaching out and pulling Sansa toward him as he passionately kissed her.

As their lips tangled, Sansa felt Jon's hands gently slide up her thighs and lift her nightdress.

When their lips parted again, they both let out a small gasp as Sansa wrapped her legs around Jon's waist and in one swift movement, lifted herself onto him and slowly slid down.

Their eyes connected for a long moment, the heat of their bodies sizzling between them, before Sansa started to move, slowly and sensually, enjoying the feel of him as Jon kissed her collarbone and then her chest, his hands holding her thighs and buttocks firm against him.

As their lovemaking progressed, Sansa felt herself approaching her climax and gripped Jon's shoulders tightly as they looking into each other's eyes.

Jon almost let out a strangled cry of ecstasy, but Sansa placed a hand over his lips to silence him, warning him to be quiet.

Then seconds later, as her own orgasm came, captured Jon's lips with hers and let their moans dissipate into each other's mouths as they kissed deeply and passionately as their movements stilled.

When it was all over, Sansa and Jon breathed slowly and steadily, catching their breath as they held one another for a few moments, then Jon kissed her forehead before lifting her gently from him.

Then, fastening his pants, he slid to the edge of the bed and stood, still trying to keep his breathing even as he threw the latch and opened the door.

Davos' eyes widened when he saw Jon's half naked form and disheveled appearance and gave a small smirk when he suddenly realized what had transpired while he was waiting.

But, given the gravity of the situation at hand, Davos' smirk quickly faded.

"Sir, the Maester sent me for you. We've had an urgent raven…" Davos said, then his eyes darkened with fear and worry, "It's... from the Wall, Jon."


	9. Chapter 9

Jon shrugged on his shirt and vest as he followed Davos down the south hall and then ascended up the stairs, lit torches leading the way, toward the Maester's tower.

Davos knocked and a gruff voice responded, "Enter."

Maester Garrod, an older man in his mid-seventies, with grey shocked curls looked up from where he sat behind his desk, his face pale and his hazel eyes worried.

"My Lord Stark," he acknowledged as he cleared his throat and stood up unsteadily, leaning on the wood for support, facing Jon

"Maester Garrod," Jon nodded as he buttoned the front of his leather vest and stood at attention as the Maester bowed to his King.

"I'm sorry to disturb the festivities, My Lord," Maester Garrod said, his tone fraught with worry, "But we've received a message from the Wall.

"Yes," Jon said, straightening the bottom of his vest and adjusted his shirt cuffs, briefly looking away from Maester Garrod, "I've been expecting word from the Watch—"

Suddenly, Jon's eyes lifted and moved to the corner of the room, behind the maester's desk, to a black raven, still as the grave, in a cage.

Normally ravens did not stay still and rustled in cages, wishing always to be free.

The behavior of this bird was so unusual it had drawn Jon's gaze and he flinched when the bird turned its head to behold him and Jon gasped when he saw its bright blue eyes.

He turned his gaze toward Maester Garrod, but the man was already sliding a torn piece of parchment across the table toward him in an answer.

"We received word from the Wall, My Lord, but it's _not_ from the Night's Watch."

Jon stepped forward and leaned down toward the parchment and his eyes widened

"Is that _blood_?" Davos asked in a horrified voice, coming to his side and expressing the words before Jon could get them out.

Maester Garrod's silence was the answer as Jon slowly reached forward and tentatively took the heavy paper into his hands by the corners and read the blood-soaked words inscribed upon it in the common tongue.

 _Blood of my blood and born of fire and ice, stone in the wall, thy fate is thine. But like thy blood, thy soul is mine. Come forth and our words, like our spirits, we will bind. At the wall, thy fate is thine._

Jon's face fell and he immediately looked over to Davos and then to Maester Garrod

"Who was meant to receive this?" Jon asked, his voice unsteady

Maester Garrod lifted his chin, signaling for Jon to turn the parchment over and the he did so, letting the paper fall from his hands as read the words…

 _The King of the North_

"It can't be…" Jon whispered, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he tried to process the words

"It _is,_ " was Maester Garrod's response, "The Night's King has chosen _you_ , My Lord—to communicate to _and through_ you. It appears he wants to meet with you—"

"I don't understand _how_ this is happening… _why_ this is happening…" Jon said, shaking his head and raising his eyes before looking between the Maester and Davos, "How does he even know who I am?"

Davos opened his mouth to speak, but the maester's words found Jon's ears first.

"It doesn't matter _how_ he knows… _he knows_. This is an opportunity, My Lord, and we must not waste it."

"You're not seriously proposing that we let Jon come face to face with the Night's King!" Davos responded, "That is like walking straight into the lion's den unarmed—"

"But, My Lord King _is_ armed," Maester Garrod replied, "With the only thing that seems to matter to the Night's King…blood. Your bloodline is what draws him to you. It is forged of Stark blood and Valyrian steel and everyone in the seven kingdoms now knows it. Those are still powerful totems to those in the North and are a sacred reminder to those who remember. There is a reason you have been chosen and it would be for the benefit of all of our sakes if you would meet with him—"

"And what?!" Davos cried in Jon's defense before he could speak, "Talk about the weather? The political affairs in Kings Landing?! Why should he even respond to this obvious invite to slaughter?"

There was a long pause, then Maester Garrod continued solemnly, his eyes focused intently on Davos, "I sincerely do not think that it is an invitation to slaughter, Lord Davos. Quite the opposite in fact. I believe, from the words he's written here, that he proposes something else entirely."

Then his gaze turned to Jon, "Therefor, whatever your personal feeling on the matter, Jon Stark of Winterfell or Eamonn Targaryen…whatever you choose to call yourself…..you _should_ respond…" He then leaned forward and reached under his desk and soon a burlap sack appeared, scattered with small amounts of bird droppings and feather fluff that made it obvious that the raven had carried it along with its message, "And, I think, the sooner…the better."

Then, from the bag, the maester pulled, by the hair, the severed head of Eddison Tollett, acting commander of the Night's Watch, and tossed it onto the table toward Jon.

# # # # # # # # #

Davos closed the door behind him to the maester's chambers and walked out into the hall where Jon was standing near the window trying to catch his breath.

Davos slowly approached him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder from behind, "I'm sorry about Commander Tollett. He seemed like a good man and a good friend."

Jon nodded, unable to reply for the grief was too near.

After a moment, Davos released Jon's shoulder and waited for his king to speak.

Finally, Jon took in a deep breath

"If the Night's King wants to meet with me, I need to know why…and soon."

"It's clear by Tollet's death that he must have control of the wall," Davos said, "Though how I don't know... I thought there were magics ruins carved into the walls to prevent such a thing..."

"I thought so too..." Jon whispered in thought

"We need to move quickly." Davos said, returning to his senses, narrowing his eyes, "What do you propose?"

There was a long silence as Jon seemed to think through this carefully.

Then finally...

"Starks of Winterfell all know the words..." Jon whispered, his back still turned to Davos as he looked out of the window and out onto the dark courtyard inside the keep of Winterfell, " 'Winter is coming'…"

Then suddenly, he turned back on his heel to face Davos, his eyes narrowing and he smirked in sudden realization, "That is our family mantra…spoken since the days of Bran 'The Builder', Lord of Winterfell…my father made sure we never forgot them...as his father did before him. But, I never thought much about what the words really meant until _this moment_."

His gaze then moved toward Davos and the two men locked eyes.

"When I was a boy," Jon said, "I thought it was just a phrase to inspire loyalty, trust and see us through difficult times…that that is what the 'winter' represented—"

"But, now, it's not just figurative…" Lord Davos interjected, "It's _literal._ "

Jon nodded, then started walking forward and signaled for Davos to follow him.

"Where are we going, My Lord?" Davos asked, immediately on Jon's heels as he walked quickly down the hall and then descended the tower steps toward the bridge that would lead them across to the keep and then down to the courtyard.

"To the crypts…" Jon said over his shoulder to Davos, then turned forward again and whispered to himself, "There's something I need to see."

# # # # # # #

Sansa's eyes narrowed as she stood on a frozen lake in the middle of a snow covered tundra she didn't recognize.

As she looked around, she was alone in the vast, perfect snowy winter land, but had no fear.

She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but something in her heart and mind told her to keep looking…that all would soon be revealed.

Sansa exhaled with frosted breath as she pulled her fur cloak closer around her shoulders and waited.

Finally, a hand touched her shoulder from behind and she turned, coming face to face with a tall, half naked man with light red hair and long, delicate features.

Sansa smiled when she saw him…feeling somehow, like she had known him all her life.

Sansa's eyes raked over him and then widened when she realized that he wore only lightweight trousers in the freezing winter cold—his torso and his feet were bare.

She immediately started to selflessly remove her cloak as she asked the man, who somehow reminded her of her own father, his name.

"Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" she asked, unfixing the clasp around her neck

"Taryn…" the man said, making a move to reach out to her, "Taryn Star—"

"Sansa!" a familiar voice suddenly cried, though it sounded different, older

Sansa immediately turned on her heal and her eye widened when she saw her brother, Bran.

Indeed he was older than the last time she saw him and before she could gather a coherent thought or feeling on the matter of seeing him again, she suddenly registered the petrified look on his face.

"Sansa! Wake up!" he cried, quickly walking toward her as she remained dumbfounded by his words

"What?" Sansa whispered, her eyes rolling as Bran reached out and pulled her away by her forearm, just as she saw a long arm with a pale white hand swipe past her shoulder and she turned to see that the handsome, red-headed stranger had become a white walker with bright blue eyes and now stood dressed in a military style uniform with two cross swords on his back.

" _Wake up!"_ Bran cried again, his voice breaking as he threw himself between his sister and the Night's King as Sansa slipped on the ice beneath her feet and fell to the ground.

# # # # # # #

Sansa's eyes opened and she gasped as she bolted straight up in bed, where she had fallen asleep waiting for Jon to return.

"Oh...my Gods...He has a name…" she said, swallowing, "The Night's King…He has a name."


	10. Chapter 10

**((Sorry for the wait and if you are a Game of Thrones purist...sorry, again. Song featured is Kingdom Fall by Claire Wyndham. Enjoy!))**

Sansa tried to slow her breathing as she sat on the edge of her and Jon's bed and then stood up, reaching for her robe where it lay across the chair next to the bed. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she rounded the end of her bed and walked out onto her balcony looking out toward the courtyard.

It was just then that two figures caught her eye, moving with speed and torch light in hand as they passed under the gateway between the Great Keep and the Armory and onto the main path that led to the First Keep and the crypt of Winterfell.

Sansa narrowed her eyes as she watched Jon and Davos disappear into the shadow of the Broken tower, then swiftly turned on her heel and left the balcony, her robe sweeping behind her.

# # # # # # # #

"Hand me my torch," Jon said over his shoulder after he had opened the ironwood door, then turned back on the first step of the dark stone staircase and received a torch from Davos before casting the light in front of him and continuing to descend down to the permanent sleeping place of generations of Starks.

Davos exhaled in awe as they reached the bottom of the narrow winding staircase and his torch cast a shadowy light on the long hall ahead of them, surrounded by double spaced stone pillars, capped by a vaulted ceiling and lined with tribute statues of Jon's ancestors, staring with blank granite eyes as the two men passed.

Davos' eyes softened as Jon looked up to the statue of Lyanna Stark, a small smile crossing his face and the fingers of his free hand grazing along the bottom of the beautiful dress carved into her stone effigy as he passed her by.

Davos thought they might stop, but Jon pressed on and just when they came to the end of the hall and Davos thought they might take the next stone stairway ahead down to the lower levels, Jon veered off and walked behind the statue of Lord Rickard Stark toward what looked like a broken piece of wall at the back of the crypt.

Jon suddenly turned back and silently handed Davos his torch before he leaned forward and pushed against what suddenly was revealed in closer torch light to be an old stone turn-door. Jon easily moved it aside, as its structure was crumbling with age.

When the doorway opened to reveal a dark side passage, Jon nodded to Davos and the man handed Jon his torch again.

"Tell me…what do you know about my ancestors, Lord Davos?" Jon asked as he made his way down the hallway, Davos close on his heels.

"The Starks? Just what the average person who lives in Westeros and grows up on the tales from the Age of Heroes knows, My Lord."

"So you're familiar with Brandon Stark or 'Bran the Builder'?" Jon asked

"Yes, of course. He built Winterfell and was known as the first 'Winter King'."

"Do you know anything else about him?" Jon asked as he continued to walk ahead in the dark

"Not much else…no. I don't think anyone ever knew much about him beyond the fact that he built numerous structures in the North, was Lord of Winterfell and that he had a son, Brandon, know as 'The Breaker', who legend says defeated the Night's King when he first took control of the Wall thousands of years ago…"

"Ah, then you know the traditional legend of the Night's King?" Jon smirked over his shoulder as he kept moving

"Of course. The Thirteenth Commander of the Night's Watch who fell in love with a white woman beyond the Wall and had his heart and soul consumed by her..." then Davos' words trailed off as he watched Jon come to a stop in front of an ancient stone bricked wall that was partially crumbled in the top and bottom crevasses.

It was foundation wall. A _very old_ foundation wall.

But, how it was holding anything up in its age and condition was a miracle to Davos.

"When I was young," Jon said, keeping his eyes focused on the wall as he stepped forward and placed his free hand on the wall, then running it along the stones methodically with the torchlight in his other hand held at eye level as he seemed to search for something, "My father was told by our chief builder that the First keep and the Broken tower, part of the original Winterfell constructed by Bran 'The Builder', were crumbling and that he advised tearing them down and rebuilding the section of defensive wall between them. The builder said that if we took one hit from our enemies, it would be the end of us. My father refused. That night, my brother, Robb, said he asked our father why he refused to rebuild that part of the defensive wall if it would keep us safe…"

Jon trailed off for a moment as his eyes and hands continued to search the wall until he stopped and exhaled as he laid a hand on one of the center stones that he had first seemed to overlook.

As Davos stepped closer, he saw an image of a sprawling tree with the face of a God etched into its trunk hand-carved into the stone and faded by time.

Jon then turned and looked over his shoulder at Davos.

"My father said that old magic lay in those ancient walls and structures and that magic could protect us in its own right," he said

Then, keeping his eyes locked with Davos, Jon pushed on the stone and it moved back and to one side to reveal a small compartment

"My father would spend hours down here…even in the months before his death. I think he wanted to know more about the Starks…who we are, where we come from. He and his brother found this hidden passage when they were children and when we came of age, my father brought Robb and I down here. His dream was that Robb would one day inherit Winterfell and by his good graces, I would be an advisor at his side…"

Jon trailed off again as Davos came to his side and he could see the emotion welling in his Lord's eyes, but Jon quickly checked himself and said in a soft whisper and a dismissive smile, "An old dream…but one my father wanted, none the less, so I can't help but wish for it more than the dream I now have realized for myself."

Davos laid a comforting hand on Jon's shoulder and Jon smirked, then handed Davos his torch and he reached inside the wall.

"He never moved the stones aside when he showed us, but he said that this wall…" Jon paused as he gasped, then smirked when he finally felt something on the other side, "He said that it would contain everything we would need when Winter finally came."

Davos scoffed as he watch Jon suddenly pull an old heavy leather-bound book with several silver scrolls wrapped in parchment and bound to it.

They were heavy and Jon hefted them into his arms then nodded toward a row of old stone benches behind some of the older tombs without names.

Davos immediately followed him and sat beside him as Jon sat the book on his knees and opened the cover

A gust of wind suddenly blew through the passage and extinguished one of the torches between Jon and Davos.

Jon and Davos shared an apprehensive look then Jon turned his gaze down to the book and Davos held the one lighted torch still glowing above Jon so that he could see clearly.

"Here I lay forth the account of Brandon Stark, thyself the Winter King, Lord of Winterfell," Jon read, his eyes narrowing, taking in the words, "my home and keep rendered by my own hands, the people of our land on bended knee before me, though I buy it all with a heavy pain...the greatest of all being the loss of my older brother—"

"Taryn," a familiar voice finished and Jon and Davos turned to see Sansa walking toward them, wielding a torch of her own.

"How could you possibly know his name?" Jon asked, breathless, looking from the page, then to his wife

"Because he came to me in a dream," Sansa said, coming to stand in front of her husband and Davos, "And as unsettling as it sounds...he told me. Taryn Stark...he is the Night's King—"

" _What?"_ Davos replied, " _The Night's King?_ He's a Stark of Winterfell."

"'Winter is Coming'…" Jon said, his eyes locking with Sansa's and she nodded, "So, it's not a season…It's _a person_."

 _ **Say it like you mean it…**_

"Old Nan used to tell us that the Night King didn't fear anything and that that was the fault in him, for all men must have fear. What if his fault became our enemy's greatest strength? What if he isn't who we thought he was? What if he was nothing of what the legends told? What if he was _turned into_ what he was? What if it wasn't his choice?"

 _ **Bones become dust…**_

 _ **Gold turns to Rust….**_

# # # # # # # # # # # #

 _ **Say it like you mean it…**_

The Night's King slowly opened his eyes where he sat in a wooden chair next to the large stone fireplace in the quarters of the Commander of the Night's Watch.

 _ **Underneath a spotlight…**_

His breath steady in spite of what had transpired in his dreams—his failure to reach out to his kin—he straightened himself and allowed his ice blue eyes to focus on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

 _ **And all the splintered wood,**_

 _ **Nothing here is shining,**_

 _ **Shining like it should….**_

The Night's King's suddenly turned to his outstretched arm on the side of the chair and he blinked as he slowly pushed back the sleeve of his leather uniform to reveal the faded tattoo of a dire wolf under his pale white skin.

 _ **I'd rather watch my kingdom fall…**_

His face started to crumble slightly as memories thousands of years old suddenly seeped into his mind.

 _ **I want it all or not at all.**_

The most clear of them all was the memory of himself, cloaked in black, hugging his younger brother, Brandon.

 _ **I'd rather watch my kingdom fall…**_

 _Enough_ , he told himself and immediately rolled down his sleeve as he closed his eyes again and willing the painful memories away.

 _ **I want it all or not at all.**_

 _# # # # # # # # #_

 _ **Tell me that you mean it...**_

Sansa and Davos flanked around Jon as he stood and rolled out the largest of the silver scrolls onto the floor, letting it unfold a few feet in front of him.

It was the Stark Family tree.

 _ **Tell me that it's true,  
**_

 _ **If it's the last thing you do….**_

Slowly, they began walking along the parchment, examining the hand-drawn family diagram that led from the bottom—the most recent Stark names—to the very top.

In elegant hand written script just below the name of their earliest ancestor Brandon of "The Bloody Blade", his name marked with the drawing of a long blade through it, they saw the names of his children Brandon "The Builder" symbolized by a stone drawn beneath his name. Beside it, a large ink blot disfigured the second name branched down next to Brandon, indicating his sibling.

Blotting out a name in that time period on a noble family tree was common when the said family member was disowned by the family for reasons known and unknown.

 _ **Tell me that you mean it….**_

But, Sansa, Jon and Davos' eyes widened when they saw the vortex symbol drawn above the blot that symbolized the white walkers.

It was crude, like it had been drawn in after the blotting out of Brandon's sibling's name.

 _ **I'd rather watch my kingdom fall…**_

"Gods...Is _that_ what I _think_ it is?" Jon whispered in disbelief as Sansa took the scroll into her hands and Davos came behind her sensing that she wanted to hold it up to the light.

 _ **I want it all or not at all.**_

When she did, she let out a breath as they all saw the words revealed by the light under the blot.

 _ **I'd rather watch my kingdom fall….**_

 _Taryn Stark,_ it read, _The Brave Wolf_ and below it, the symbol of House Stark's dire wolf etched on the parchment.

 _ **I want it all or not at all.**_

 _ **# # # # # # # # #**_

 _ **I want it all or not at all….**_

The Night's King, slowly stood from the wooden chair and steadily circled it as he walked to through the doors and out onto the balcony that looked out onto the courtyard of Castle Black.

His eyes brightened as they focused on the men and women under his command, coming and going, having taken full control of the castle.

The Night's King leaned forward on the stone rail and looked out beyond the gates of Castle Black to the wide open land stretching out underneath the light of the moon

Years ago, he had tried to reach out to Lord Eddard Stark through their bloodline, but the old warden had ignored his call in his dreams…

Now, years later, he hoped Ned's children wouldn't make the same mistake.

The Night's King smiled, swearing he could see the shadow of Winterfell on the horizon.

 _ **I'd rather watch my kingdom fall…**_

 _ **I want it all or not at all.**_

He couldn't help but let the feeling rush over him that it might be his again...that soon, he would be home.

 _ **I'd rather watch my kingdom fall...**_

 _ **I want it all or not at all.**_

# # # # # # # # # # #

"If Taryn Stark is the Night's King and he's the 'winter' that is coming…then _why?_ Why is he coming?" Davos asked, his eyes worried, as Sansa lowered the scroll to the floor again and her eyes moved over to Jon, who was studying the maps drawn by hand by Bran "The Builder" himself.

 _ **I'd rather watch my kingdom fall...**_

 _ **I want it all or not at all.**_

Jon's dark brown eyes focused from Winterfell across the snowy tundra and past the King's Road to the Wall and Castle Black, depicted on the map.

He let them linger there for a long time, as if he could see the Night's King standing on the walls of the keep, staring back at him…

"He's a Stark of Winterfell. This is his home..." Sansa finally answered Davos, but still kept her eyes on Jon, "What if he wants to come home?"

 _ **I'd rather watch my kingdom fall...**_

 _ **I want it all or not at all.**_


	11. Chapter 11

(( _ **Short, but a little emotion filled. Sorry. Song is "Carry On" by Norah Jones. Enjoy))**_

"Watch your step, my Lady," Lord Davos said, wielding his torch in one hand and offering Sansa his free hand with the other.

Sansa smirked, then rolled her eyes and took his pro-offered hand as she walked back up the steep tunnel toward the main crypt chamber, Jon following close behind carrying the memoires of Bran 'The Builder' under his arm.

"I made it _down_ here _without_ assistance, Lord Davos," Sansa said defiantly as she passed him, "I think I can make it _out_ of here _without_ assistance…."

"Just being a gentleman, My Lady," Davos replied and gave a wink back to Jon, who smiled a little, knowing how independent and stubborn his wife could be.

" _Then_ could you be a _gentleman_ and push open this door?" Lady Sansa quipped, turning to face him in the torchlight with her back to the crumbling stone turn-door.

Lord Davos closed his eyes in exasperation and Jon chuckled

# # # # # # # #

"Lady Lyanna!" a voice called out as Lady Lyanna Mormont walked ahead of her guardsmen, slipping on her riding gloves as she crossed the courtyard toward the main keep where the stable hands of Winterfell had assembled their horses, "Might I have a word, My Lady?"

Lady Lyanna handed the young man holding her charger a silver coin and the man bowed and departed.

"I'm not interested in _anything_ you have say, Lord Baelish," Lyanna sighed as she took the reins of her horse and stepped up into the proffered hand of one of her guardsman, who boosted her into the saddle, before she looked down upon Littlefinger as she continued, "So, save your breath and keep your forked tongue behind your teeth where it belongs."

"My Lady?" Baelish replied, placing a hand against his chest and feigning hurt and disappointment, but cunningly looking around, "I find your words dis-honorable to the House of Arryn of which I serve and a noble house which lest we forget saved our beloved King of the North—"

"A house's regency that you stole from a _boy_ —a boy older than myself, I'm told," Lyanna shot back, looking down to her legs as she wrapped them into the stirrups and twisted the leather reins of the bridle around her gloved right hand.

"You are _very_ forthright, for one so young, aren't you?" Lord Baelish quipped, narrowing his eyes, studying the Little Bear as he folded his hands behind his back.

"And _you're_ a conniving little man who wishes he was in Sansa Stark's bed…" she replied back with the confidence of someone twice her age and unperturbed by his slight as she lifted her midnight colored eyes up slightly and met Baelish's in the dark as she straightened in the side saddle Jon had gifted her, "I've seen the way you look at her. And if I have, others have too. Be careful on that score, Lord Baelish."

Baelish smirked devilishly and nodded his defeat

There was a moment of silence as the two sized each other up before Lady Lyanna clicked with her tongue to signal departure to her black steed and the horse obeyed, turning in a circle and her guards followed suit behind her.

"I'll pray for you, to the old Gods and the new," Lyanna said finally, not looking back a Baelish as she reined her horse toward the main gate of Winterfell, parallel to the First Keep.

"I appreciate your prayers, My Lady. I am most grateful that despite our words, that we can part on the hope of being friends and allies in the future!" Lord Baelish called after her with a smirk

"Don't be too appreciative. I pray only for your survival, Lord Baelish, so that you and your Knights of the Vale may one day come to Bear Island—"

"A kind and generous offer—" Baelish started as he followed her

"Jon says I can't kill you within the walls of Winterfell….." Lyanna cut him off short, glaring at him over her shoulder, "He said nothing of Bear Island."

Baelish let out a shocked, but impressed scoff as he watched Lyanna turn back in her saddle and continue toward the gate as it now lifted.

 _ **And after all's been said and done…  
**_

Lyanna's horse suddenly jumped and stepped back, startled, and the horses of her guards followed suit soon after as their exit was cut off.

 _ **Who said it best, were you the one?**_

Baelish stepped back as well and watched as three riders, bearing the standard banner of Daenerys Targaryen, rode quickly through the gate.

 _ **Let's just forget, leave it behind  
And carry on...**_

When the Mormont horses were under control, Lady Lyanna's eyes widened as she took in the familiar face of her cousin, accompanied by a finely robed bald man she did not recognize, but Lord Baelish did immediately as Lord Varys, and the third, who carried the banner with the three headed dragon sigil of House Targaryen, looked to be a soldier or a guard from the Queen's army.

"Jorah?" Lyanna's eyes widened as her dark eyes met Jorah Mormont's ice blue as he reared his horse around to face her

 _ **If you should find the time to speak…**_

Jorah's face softened as he looked Lyanna up and down, but didn't say anything as the robed man and the soldier dismounted their horses.

Lyanna's face stayed stoic, but a single tear rolled down her cheek.

 _ **Then speak to me, I'd never keep…**_

Jorah took in a deep breath at the sight before he swung his leg over the saddle and slowly dismounted his horse, still keeping his eyes locked on Lyanna.

 _ **You from your final destiny,**_

 _ **So carry on…**_

The Little Bear waited as she watched him approach her horse and after a moment's hesitation, reached up to her, holding out his arms.

He didn't have to wait long.

Lyanna immediately leaped into them from her saddle, wrapping her arms around his neck and crying into his shoulder.

 _ **Into the quiet unbound,**_

"I don't have anyone anymore…" Lyanna whispered, "They're all _gone_ …All our family is gone…."

 _ **What you have lost, I've never found…**_

Jorah let his arms linger open for a moment before he closed his eyes, relishing her touch then wrapped his arms tightly around her.

 _ **I lost my nerve, yet peace surrounds…**_

 _ **So carry on…**_

"You're not alone…" Jorah replied softly, "You still have _me._ "

# # # # # # # # # #

As they moved down the main corridor of the crypt toward the stone staircase that would lead them back up toward the ironwood door, Jon clasped Davos' arm and pulled him a step behind Sansa as the Lady of Winterfell walked ahead of them.

"I need what happened—any words spoken about my family's past, and with regards to the Night's King's identity, to stay between us for now…" Jon said in a low tone

"Of course, My Lord," Davos nodded, then added, "But, I think you underestimate the loyalty of the Northern families."

"I know…but, I need time to read Bran 'The Builder's' journal, learn as much as I can, and decide my next move a few steps ahead before I involve them…" Jon replied, bringing the old bound book out from under his arm and turning it over in his hands, looking down at it thoughtfully, then he looked up again to Davos, " _And_ what Lord Baelish and Daenerys Tarygaryen's next move might be after they find out this important bit of family lore."

"I'll take care of it," Davos interjected, assuring him again, "I'll make some excuse for your absence from the festivities and the hunt tomorrow. Take the time you need."

"Thank you," Jon said, sighing as he moved his eyes away, scanning his eyes for Sansa

"But, Jon," Davos added, "Daenery Targaryen is your _blood_. You signed your claim over to her when she took King's Landing and killed Cersei Lannister. I don't think you have to fear her turning on you. If anything, she'll want to _help_ if she can _—"_

"As a Targaryen, I trust her with my life…but, I'm a little more wary about the counsel she keeps these days…"

Davos raised an eyebrow and nodded

Suddenly, Jon looked around, a little startled, "Where is Sansa?"

# # # # # # #

Jon took in a deep breath in relief as he stopped next to his mother's statue toward the back of the main crypt level.

 _ **Into the quiet unbound…**_

"My Lord, I didn't see anything on the east end of—" Davos started, coming up next to him, but Jon brought a hand to his chest to stop and silence his friend then nodded ahead toward the space behind the statues of his mother, Lyanna, and uncle Brandon Stark to the more recent Stark family crypts.

 _ **What you have lost, I've never found,**_

 _ **I lost my nerve, yet peace surrounds,**_

Silently, the two men watched as Sansa fell to her knees before the two crypts that bore the names of her mother and father, silently weeping with a bowed head as she traced the carvings of their names on the stones with her long fingers—carvings commissioned years before their death—carvings on the crypts that had yet to hold their bones, though both of her parents had departed from this world.

 _ **So carry on….**_

Jon then turned to Davos and handing him the journal, signaling for him to leave without him.

Davos bowed his head then left Jon to approach his wife alone.

 _ **And now that all's been said and done  
Who said it best, were you the one?  
**_

Jon did so slowly, kneeling down behind her and gently touching her shoulder.

Sansa immediately turned to face him, wiping under her eyes and giving him a stoic, albeit tear stained, face.

 _ **Let's just forget, leave it behind…  
**_

Jon stroked her cheek as he gave her a sympathetic look.

 _ **And carry on…**_

Sansa took in a breath then focused her blue eyes on her husband as she said softly, "Their bones don't lie here, but their souls do. They are Starks of Winterfell. Promise me, their names will live on... in our children?"

 _ **Let's just forget, leave it behind…**_

Jon let out a breath as he took her left hand gently into his right and placed it on his chest over his heart, while the other still cradled her face.

"I promise," he whispered back with a sad smile as he looked past her to the crypt of the only father he ever knew, "If the Gods bless us. They will not be forgotten."

 _ **And carry on...**_


	12. Chapter 12

Jon kissed Sansa's forehead as she wound her arm through his and they started for the stone staircase that would lead up from Winterfell's crypt to the courtyard above.

Suddenly, they slowed their steps as five figures descended the stone staircase and Sansa inhaled a sharp breath, clutching Jon's arm tighter—but more out of surprise than fear.

Lord Davos, who seemed to have deposited the memoirs of Brandon Stark somewhere safe for the time being, led the visiting contingency and immediately came to stand at Jon's open side as if to protect him as Lord Varys, Jorah Mormont, Lady Lyanna Mormont and Peter Baelish all formed a half moon before the Lord and Lady of Winterfell under the watchful gaze of their ancestor's statues.

"My Lady Sansa," Varys bowed, his hands folded under his rich red robe and his shaved head shining in the torch light, "Always a pleasure to see such beauty again."

"Lord Varys…" Sansa replied, keeping her stunned eyes trained on him for a moment before turning to her husband for formal introduction, remembering her manners, "My Lord…" she said, acknowledging Jon, then gesturing to Lord Varys, "May I present Lord Varys of Kings Landing, 'The Whisperer' and lately of Queen Daenerys Targaryen's council in King's Landing."

Lord Varys bowed again to Jon, "My King—"

"That is unnecessary," Jon waved a hand to dismiss the gesture "It's an honor to meet you in person, Lord Varys. I believe we have only had the pleasure of corresponding with one another written word —you on behalf of my aunt"

"Yes, My Lord," Varys replied, a tinge of sadness in his voice, "A pleasure indeed."

Varys looked to Jorah, standing to his left, waiting for the man to say something, but Jorah knew that such an introduction was not his place given his history with the North.

It was then that Lady Lyanna Mormont, his cousin, stepped forward.

"My Lord Jon Stark of Winterfell, King of the North, may I introduce my cousin, Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island and sworn and charged protector of Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men and Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, The Breaker of Chains, The Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Grass Sea, and Blood of Old Valyria…"

"Jorah Mormont…" Jon's eyes narrowed then saddened, for he knew the name well and the crimes the man had committed in the North, but instead chose to be merciful, and after a pause, said, "Your father was Commander Jeor Mormont?"

Jorah took a knee before Jon and bowed his head, nodding the affirmative, "Yes, Your Grace."

"I served under him at Castle Black" Jon replied, solemnly "He was a brave man."

"He was, your Grace…" Jorah Mormont answered, closing his eyes, "But, as his son, I have many regrets."

"Lovely. Now that the proprieties and introductions have been observed," Lord Peter Baelish suddenly interjected from where he leaned on a stone wall behind the group in the shadow of the staircase, "May we perhaps get to the business at hand? I, for one, am _very curious_ as to why one of Queen Daenerys' trusted advisors and her devoted bodyguard have traveled over half of Westeros to Winterfell…"

There was a moment of silence as Jorah Mormont looked up to Varys and their eyes met, their expressions falling before they turned eyes on Jon.

"Our Queen is dead…" Varys said and Jorah lowered his head beside him, "Therefor, we come forth at her behest to Winterfell to seek out and swear allegiance to the one who is to succeed her, by her blood, by her words, by her command."

Varys then took one knee next to Jorah, keeping his eyes on Jon, "All Hail, Eamonn Targaryen…Dragonborn and First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the North, The White Wolf!"

There was a long, tense silence as Jon, Sansa, Davos, Baelish and Lady Mormont all cast aghast looks to one another.

"Seven Hells…" Jon whispered

# # # # # # # # # #

 _ **King's Landing, One Week Earlier…..**_

"Khaleesi…" Jorah whispered his voice unsteady and his eyes pained as he knelt at his lover's bedside and took Daenerys Targaryen's pale hand gently in his own.

The breeze from the open windows in her chambers blew across the perspiration on her skin and her eyes fluttered open, her breathing heavy and labored.

"My Knight…" she said softly and Jorah bowed his head, his face crumbling as he fought back tears, resting his forehead against the back of Daenerys' hand.

It had been the first time she had spoken in hours and, at her words, Tyrion and Varys stood up and stepped up from their various vigil spots in the room and came to the end of her bed.

Dany's eyes tried to focus and when they did, she looked to Varys, then to Tyrion, who smiled at her, then he touched Varys' robed sleeve and the two men turned to leave the room.

She had said her last wishes and goodbyes to them. Jorah was to be the last.

"The blood of Old Valyria runs in my veins, Jorah the Andal…" she choked out, turning back to her guardian, "But even my family's magic can't save me now. By morning, I will be dead…"

Jorah lifted his face and his tear filled eyes met his Queen's as she said, "You must do me this last service, Jorah, and then I release you—you are _free_ —"

"I will never be free of my love for you," Jorah interjected immediately, shaking his head and his voice breaking, "Not in my heart, not in my mind, not in my spirit or my body...there will not be a day I walk forward on this earth until the end of my days when I will not think of you…and I will _never_ love _anyone_ as much as I have loved you, Khaleesi—"

"I pray to the Gods that _you do_ …" Dany whispered softly, her lips trembling as she weakly lifted the hand resting on her chest and placed it lovingly on the side of Jorah's face as he closed his eyes to her touch, "Because you deserve _so much more_ from this life, Jorah Mormont. _Love_ is only the beginning…"

Jorah's breath hitched. It was the first time in a long time that she had referred to him by his given name—the name his father gave him.

"Go home…Jorah…" Dany gave a small smile, albeit a sad one, her eyes fluttering

"My love?" Jorah asked, confused

"Tyrion will sit on Iron Throne. He has the Unsullied, my Dothraki and the banner families to protect him for now…." Dany said softly, "But, it won't be that way for long. We can't let another war break out…not now…"

Dany breathed shallowly and lowered her hand weakly from Jorah's face as she closed her eyes for a long moment, then opened them again, fluttering, trying to keep conscious.

"I need you travel with Varys to the North, Jorah. I need you to travel to the North and bring my nephew to King's Landing to sit on my throne—"

"The White Wolf is a King in his own right, Khaleesi….he belongs there, he doesn't belong _here_ —"

"Spoken like a true man of the North," Dany interjected with a scoff, then a weak cough, followed by a knowing smile that turned solemn as she continued, "Please…for _me_ … _convince him_. He is Rhaegar's son…my only true successor," she coughed again, then continued through dry lips, "He too has magic in his veins…he's _more powerful_ than he knows. Our allies will rally to him and his claim will unite the kingdoms…I've—I've _dreamed it_. Westeros needs him. The North needs him. Night is upon us…it _must_ be _him_ , Jorah."

"Your dreams always come true…." Jorah whispered, knowingly, clutching her hand tighter, then leaning forward and kissing it.

"Though it pains me to say it….you must leave me _….today_ …." Dany announced, her face crumbling as she grasped Jorah's hand tightly with all the strength she had left, "The future _cannot wait_ …"

"But, I can't leave you alone…" Jorah immediately protested, "Not like this—not when you're—"

"Tyrion will stay with me until it is over," Dany assured him, a tear streaming down her cheek as she looking into his ice blue eyes, "I _won't be_. And in the end, I take comfort in knowing that I will cross the Undying Lands and see my ancestors— _my family_ –again. All I ask, Jorah, is that when I see my brother and tell him of his son and that his legacy is safe on the throne that was always meant to be his—that it isn't a lie. Swear to me that it won't be."

Jorah nodded then closed his eyes, tears falling from them in streams, as he leaned forward and kissed Dany's lips softly.

When he pulled back, he hovered over them for a moment before he whispered against them, "I swear it. By the old Gods and the new, Khaleesi… I _swear it."_

After a few long moments, Jorah pulled back and met Dany's eyes as she said softly, the paleness of death coming over her fast, even in the afternoon light, "Then go home, Jorah Mormont…. _Go home_ …"

# # # # # # # # #

"How did she die?" Jon asked in a soft voice as Sansa wound her hand into his and stepped closer to his side sympathetically.

"Poison, My Lord…" Varys replied, closing his eyes, "A parting gift from Cersei Lannister before her own demise."

"And what of her brother, the King Slayer?" Peter Baelish suddenly spoke up

"Fled…" Jorah said, his voice gruff, "Fled like the coward he is—"

"Tyrion Lannister sits on the Iron Throne by the late Queen's command," Varys continued, "He will keep the peace until you able to arrive in King's Landing, My Lord. We must leave at first light if possible—"

"I'm not going to King's Landing—"

Jorah Mormont suddenly rose to his feet, his eyes and heart heavy with emotion, and Lyanna Mormont quickly reached out to grab his arm, seeing that her cousin's hand was on his sword hilt.

"Jorah!" Lyanna chided, "Please… _don't…_ "

Jorah immediately realized what he was doing and stopped, meeting Lyanna's eyes over his shoulder before he lowered his hand.

Then, slowly, he back to face Jon Snow as he spoke these words, "I've heard you called by many names here in the North, My Lord….'Ned Stark's Bastard', 'King Crow', 'Lord Commander', 'The White Wolf', 'King of the North'…" there was a slight pause as Jorah checked his emotions then continued, "Names have power, My Lord. They inspire fear and they inspire loyalty. My Khaleesi knew that…she knew the power of her own names and she knew the power of _yours_. She knew the power of your parent's names as well—the promise of a united Westeros. Shall I tell you what you are called in the South?"

There was another long pause and when neither Jon nor Sansa spoke, Jon only looked on with sad eyes, thinking of his aunt as Varys continued, now rising to his feet as well, "My Lord, in the South, they call you 'The Chosen One', 'The Prince Who Was Promised', and 'The Dragon Born of Ice and Fire'…." He then raised an eyebrow, "Should I go on?"

Jon straightened, "I would never disrespect the wishes of my blood, but you must understand..."

"I know what you fear, Jon Stark of Winterfell. I know what killed your father— _both_ of your fathers—and you're afraid it will kill you too…" Varys said, his eyes sympathetic, "You're worried that King's Landing is a giant pit that will swallow you whole once you set foot on the ground and it knows your blood scent. But, I don't see that future for you, My Lord…and neither did Daenerys Targaryen or she would not have chosen you as her successor or we as your advisors…" he cast a look to Jorah Mormont and the old Knight bowed solemnly, remembering his promise to his Khaleesi, "She saw promise in you and foresaw that you _would_ unite the kingdoms—for now, there is not a person alive in the seven kingdoms who has not heard your name or your father's. _Names,_ My Lord, that is the greatest power and currency we possess in this life…and you, like your aunt, have that in spades! _Please._ Accept your birthright. If not your birthright, then your father's dream—the dream Ned Stark kept alive by keeping your mother's secret, even when you left to serve the Night's Watch—"

Jon closed his eyes in pain at Varys words, then interjected, "I understand your position my Lords and I grieve with you for our loss. Daenerys Targaryen was a remarkable woman…And you are right. Loyalty and the crown killed my father—both of my fathers. I do have fears about coming with you, but that is not the _only_ reason I will not leave with you come morning. Understand, that my blood isn't _just_ that of Old Valyria, it's also of the North. Like you said, I am a descendant of the First Men and while I understand that King's Landing needs someone on the Iron Throne as soon as possible, my first and foremost allegiance is to _them._ 'A Stark must always be in Winterfell'…." Jon shook his head, " _I'm sorry_. I will of course, not insult my ancestors by outright refusing the crown or the Iron Throne now that it has passed to me…but, please understand the position I am in...understand that I cannot just leave my home while it is in such peril. The Long Night is upon us—Winter is upon us and the dead are coming—"

"They will breech the Wall and march north in a matter of days…" Peter Baelish added, informing Lord Varys and Jorah

"My Lords," Jon urged, "Lord Baelish is right. I _must_ focus on saving my own people. If we lose…there may not be a North _or_ a South to rule and the Iron Throne will mean _nothing…_ When the Long Night has passed…I will consider what my aunt offers."

"If _time_ is what you require," Jorah interjected, "You shall have it and I shall keep my word to my Queen. And you shall have my sword for as long as it is attached to my living body….I would be honored to fight for you—blood of my blood—for I am also of the North and wish to represent Bear Island and the House of Mormont in the war to come…" He then turned to his cousin, Lyanna, "If they will have me?"

"Of course, we will Ser Jorah," Lyanna replied with a formal nod

"I do not have a sword to pledge," Varys added, narrowing his eyes in concern and readjusting his arms under the folds of his robes nervously, "But I can provide council and whispers from across the seas. As you are our new named King by right of succession, I will not leave your side until this threat has passed and until you have come to a decision regarding your future position—"

"If you had any sense," Baelish interjected, "You would pull some of the forces keeping the peace in King's Landing and send them North to aid our banner men—we could use every able bodied man to be spared."

His eyes met Sansa's for a long moment before Sansa averted her eyes and looked to Jon as he focused his gaze on Lord Varys, "I will not ask the South to sacrifice for the North… _not yet_ …Tyrion Lannister needs to hold Kings Landing whether I chose to take the throne or not," he then turned an keen eye on Lord Baelish, "Besides, I believe we still have the allegiance of the Knights of the Vale and all of our banner men from the River Mark and the Eyrie, do we not, Lord Baelish?"

Lord Baelish smirked and nodded, "Of course, My Lord. Forgive me."

"They _are your men_ , my King, should you formally accept the crown," Lord Varys added pointedly, all the while his eyes seeming to gaze warily on Lord Baelish, "And they will fight for you when needed."

Jon nodded in the affirmative, confident that the card was in his pocket should he need to play it. And that seemed to be the end of that.

"My Lords," Sansa said, sensing that the conversation had ended, "Welcome to Winterfell. Thank you for your loyalty and your service. You have our allegiance, our protection and our gratitude. Now, if you'll forgive my husband and I, we will now retire—the festivities have made us tired—but, Lord Davos, will show you to your chambers."

Lord Davos stepped forward at Sansa's words

"Thank you, My Lord….My Lady," Lord Varys acknowledged Jon and Sansa as he bowed, "But Ser Jorah and I have one last duty to discharge before we leave your presence— _a gift_ …from her Majesty upon her death."

"A gift?" Jon asked curiously, then lamented, "That is not necessary."

"Daenerys insisted—" Varys started

"It's a dragon…" Peter Baelish suddenly wondered out loud as if the question in his mind were finally answered

" _What?!"_ Davos cried, taken aback by his words, Jon just stood stunned, his eyes moving to meet Sansa's.

"You can't be _bloody serious_?!" Lady Lyanna exclaimed trying to make eye contact with Jorah and Varys

"It's been a little more than a week since Daenerys Targaryen proposed marriage to her nephew…" Lord Baelish mused out loud, studying Jorah as he pushed off the stone wall and walked forward, "Three days since your marriage and then the day after, you and Lord Varys arrive at Winterfell, more than a month's journey from King's Landing and Daenerys Targaryen has fallen dead in the meantime? How else could this have been accomplished?"

"They rode a dragon…." Lyanna whispered in awe, then she looked to Jorah hopefully, "You _rode a dragon?!"_

"We did," Varys confirmed, "Though the fickle creature only took us more than half way to our destination..." and then he smiled at Jon Snow, "Would you like to meet him?"

# # # # # # # # #

Sansa's hair blew in the evening wind as she came to top of the stone staircase and Jon offered her his hand to help her step up into the courtyard.

Lyanna and Jorah Mormont were close behind her and Peter Baelish, Lord Davos and Lord Varys were already in the courtyard waiting for them.

The night seemed still…

Only the rustling of the trees and slight clanking of the armor of the Winterfell guard on night's watch around the perimeter of the keep could be heard.

After a long moment, Jon looked to Varys and Varys jerked his head, signaling Jon to walk the path alone to the main keep gate that would lead out of Winterfell.

Jon narrowed his eyes, then raised a brow and Varys said, "He is beyond the woods outside the castle walls. He is the shyest of the Queen's children, but the most steadfast and loyal…" he smirked as he looked the Lord of Winterfell up and down, "A fitting match I think. You should go alone. He doesn't take kindly to strangers or to being overwhelmed."

Jon gave an uncertain smirk, "What is his name?"

"Rhaegal…" Jorah chimed in, "For your father."

Jon took in a breath and his eyes softened

"His brothers have both fallen…" Jorah said sadly, "His mother is gone. He's alone in the world…much like yourself. He is now a blood dragon. My Khaleesi trained him. Shed your blood and he will know it is of the Old Valyria and he will come to you—he will know you."

Sansa and Jon shared a look before he slowly released her hand and they all watched as he slowly turned on his heel and walked down the torch lit path toward the closed gate.

There was a shuffle above as the guards came into formation over the archway, looking down in confusion and concern toward their master.

Jon looked up to them.

"Raise the gate," he commanded

Two of the men nodded, then turned to their compatriots, "Raise the gate!"

Jon closed his eyes to steady himself as he looked through the iron grating to the vast desolation of the woods in the distance, covered in darkness and snow.

When the gate finally began to raise slowly, Jon looked back over his shoulder to the group watching him anxiously from the courtyard.

Only the sound of the gate reaching its stopping point against the great stone arch, pulled Jon's attention back to the task at hand.

He swallowed nervously, looking around as he stepped out into the night, walking through the gate and onto the path that led toward the woods, snow crunching beneath his feet.

Keeping his dark eyes on the look-out in the distance, Jon slowly and blindly pulled a small knife from his pocket and lifting his hand in front of his face, brought the blade to slice against his palm.

He winced slightly at the pain, then lowered the knife again as he watched the blood flow slowly from the wound.

For a few moments, there was nothing…just the wind and sound of quiet nature.

Then, suddenly, there was a rustling in the trees in the distance and Jon's eyes widened as a great shadow lifted itself into the sky, creating a large gust of wind that blew snow up into whirlwinds around him.

Jon kept his eyes fixed on the dark figure, now flying below the evening clouds toward Winterfell.

As Rhaegal glided closer and closer, his form began to take shape, his green scales and red crest now shimmering in the light emanating from the torches along the castle keep's outer walls.

When he landed a few feet from his new master, Rhaegal, silently observed Jon steadily, his feet making a loud scuffling on the road as he gained his footing and shook his wings shyly.

Rhaegal huffed and sniffed the air.

It was the blood.

Jon gasped at the enormity of the beautiful beast standing in front of him and was pretty sure that everyone at his back, from the castle guards to the five in the courtyard, were in just as much awe as he was.

It was true. The legends were true!

If only his brothers, Bran and Rickon were there with him to see it...

After a long moment, Jon finally smirked and mustered enough courage to walk slowly forward.

This elicited a nervous screech from Rhaegal, but he stayed as still as he could, watching Jon, his nostrils still flaring as he took in Jon's scent.

Jon held up his sliced palm and Rhaegal's nostrils immediately grew wider and the dragon dipped his head and neck down toward Jon's approach.

When he was within a foot of the dragon, Jon slowly held out his palm toward Rhaegal as he would his dire wolf, Ghost, letting the beast catch the familiar scent of his mother, Daenerys, from the ancestry that flowed in Jon's veins.

The blood magic seemed to work...and Jon thought he saw a sadness in Rhaegal's eyes as he finally nuzzled his snout in Jon's bloody palm, seemingly remembering his mother, then almost purred as he turned his head and rubbed his snout along Jon's arm and shoulder in an affectionate gesture.

Jon was part of the family... _.his_ family.

Jon gasped in surprise and, when the dragon pulled back, he met its dark yellow eyes as he slowly raised a hand and Rhaegal met him halfway.

Slow and sure, Rhaegal allowed his new master to pet him from his snout, up between his eyes and to the top of his crest as a single tear ran down Jon's cheek.

"I have a dragon..." Jon whispered in disbelief


	13. Chapter 13

_**The North, 9954 BAL….**_

 _Nine year-old Bran Stark fluttered open his eyes as he felt a subtle rumbling that shook his bed._

 _When he came to his senses, he immediately rolled over under the furs to see his older brother, Taryn, convulsing in his own bed a few feet away, his eyes not his own, but covered in a pale milky white._

 _Suddenly, the subtle rumblings beneath the ground broke into what felt like an full blown earthquake—the walls and ceiling of the wood and stone long house shaking violently._

" _Taryn!" Bran called, frightened, as he threw his blankets off of himself and jumped down from his tall, tree limb constructed bed, trying to get to his brother, "Taryn, wake up!"_

 _But, the second his feet hit the floor, the rumbling threw him off balance and he fell to his knees._

 _As dirt and other debris began to fall from ceiling above, Bran shielded his head with his arms and rolled under his own bed for protection, peaking out from under it, still_ _trying to catch a glimpse of his brother through the noise and chaos._

 _Finally, just as quickly as it seemed the earth began quaking, it stopped abruptly._

 _Bran let out a heavy breath, but it hitched in startled fear as he heard his brother's blankets rustle and the boy of eleven moved as quickly out of his bed as a shadow._

 _As Bran crawled forward on his elbows, his eyes widened as he saw his brother immediately fall to his own knees next to his without regard for anything or anyone else, his mind focused on only one thing._

 _Bran tried to stay quiet as he slid out from under his bed, keeping his gaze on his brother as Taryn grabbed a small box from under his bed and from it, pulled crude chalk and began drawing in rapid succession on the wooden floor._

 _By the time their father, Brandon, burst through the door with his broad shoulders, long dark hair and still dressed in his leather bound regalia, Taryn had already drawn several symbols on the floor around himself and was still frantically drawing more._

 _Their father must have been meeting with his second in command that evening in their home's great hall, for he was not alone when he breached the bedroom like a mythical hero._

 _Goefred, The White Crow, an older man of nearly sixty, immediately moved to assess young Bran, kneeling and taking the boy into his arms and looking him over to make sure he wasn't harmed._

 _Meanwhile, their father moved toward Taryn, his eyes widening in shock and mild horror as he watched the speed with which his son drew, as if he was possessed._

 _And, worse, he recognized the symbols…_

 _He had seen them many times before._

 _They were in the caves and the trees in the surrounding wooded areas of the North and were representations of, and used by, the Children of the Forest._

" _Taryn…" Brandon said softly as he approached his son like he would a timid deer_

 _But, Taryn didn't even seem to acknowledge him as he continued to draw, huffing out breath as if it was a great exertion for him or as if he was possessed by some supernatural and angry force determined to finish his task._

" _My son…" his father continued as he moved closer, the moonlight from the open skylight above casting a strange shadow on his eldest child._

 _Suddenly, when his father was only a couple of feet from him, Taryn abruptly stopped drawing and dropped the chalk._

 _Swiftly, almost with supernatural speed, boy stood and turned around in his night shift to face his father, his blue eyes supernaturally electric and his lip trembling and white._

" _Taryn—" his father started to whisper as he tried to close the distance between himself and the boy_

" _There will be a reckoning…" Taryn suddenly said in a seemingly inhuman voice that was not his own and which stopped his father in his tracks, "Your house will fall, your line will die and you will see all that you love burn to ash. To all First Men and their sons and their sons to follow, from now until the end of days… There will be a reckoning…One has been chosen and you must now offer him or peace you will never find."_

 _The electric blue suddenly lifted from the boys eyes and his normal color returned to his face._

 _Brandon let out a sigh of relief and moved to rush toward his son, but his path was immediately blocked by a raven that had fallen through the skylight and landed dead at his feet._

 _Brandon narrowed his eyes in shock and fear at the omen before him, but resolved to continue to move toward the now frightened boy standing before him._

 _But, when he took another step forward, a commotion of flapping wings and a howling screech quickly rose up around the Stark's long house and soon an avalanche of ravens began to fall, almost one by one, dead, through the skylight._

 _Brandon shielded his eyes for a moment as he watched the birds rain down, then quickly rushed through the downpour and pulled his son into an embrace._

 _The moment Brandon put his arms around Taryn, the rain of dead ravens stopped._

 _Brandon closed his eyes as he felt his son's trembling arms wrap around his large barrel chest._

" _What—what happened?…" Taryn whispered, his voice tinged with the fear as his eyes tracked to the dead birds and the drawings around him…"I—I'm sorry…I don't know how—"_

" _I know…It's alright..." His father replied, holding Taryn tighter to him, his eyes welling with sadness and regret as he looked to where the dead ravens had fallen in a swirling vortex pattern around his son._

 _Another symbol._

 _Then he looked over his shoulder to where Goefred stood with young Bran in his arms._

 _The two men's eyes met and Goefred watched Brandon Stark's face crumble as he turned back and laid his head lovingly and possessively on the crown of his son and heir's head and said in a voice to convince himself more than the boy in his arms, "It's going to be alright..."_

 _Earlier that night the two men had spoken of the continuing war against the Children of the Forest and their clandestine meeting with the high priestess day before, foolishly trying to force a truce._

 _She had looked directly at Brandon, the Bloody Blade, leader of the First Men of the North when she had delivered the words, "Our war may one day come to an end, man of the North, but not by your hand as you will it, nor by mine. It will come by one who has been chosen—by one who has no fear, but will learn to do so before the long night has come and gone and passed from all memory. From among you…one will be chosen. And he, alone, will judge your fate...and ours."_


	14. Chapter 14

" _I saw that night—the night of the Winter Solstice, when the Gods and nature claimed my brother for their own and spoke of the 'reckoning' that was to come—that Taryn's future fate was sealed._

 _In the following decades, no matter how my father tried to fight it, no matter how he tried to shield my brother from a destiny he, himself, may have unwittingly put into motion…it wasn't enough._

 _Nature had spoken and every day brought my brother closer and closer to his destiny._

 _Taryn, as he grew into his teenage years, became a warg—something rarely seen among men and women in the North of highborn families—'A gift from the Gods' many said…'A cursed abomination' said others._

 _And he was indeed powerful._

 _Not only could he see into the minds of all manner of creatures…but people as well. Taryn could see into their minds, calm their spirits and visit them in their dreams if and when he wanted…"_

Jon bit his lip and turned the page of the Bran Stark's memoirs, his eyes glued to the page as he read on...

" _The tragedy was that my father feared so much for his heir and firstborn since his realization of the prophecy, that he never let him truly live. Taryn was a skilled bow man and warrior, but was never allowed to fight._

 _And, because of this, he grew fearless…just as the prophecy had predicted._

 _It wasn't until the final decade of the war with the Children of the Forest, when my brother had finally grown in to a man, that fate chose its moment…as it so often cruelly does._

 _Perhaps it was arrogance or old age, but as my brother grew more and more powerful in his abilities, my father no longer feared his son's fate._

 _He even began to foolishly predict the prophecy to be in our favor._

 _Still, many of our own people feared Taryn's abilities and to keep him safe, my father commissioned me to build an outpost in the North—a fortification strong hold that would come to be known as Castle Black._

 _Taryn was to be its first commander and to use his abilities as a warg and his ever growing magical abilities as a sorcerer to monitor the movements of the Children of the Forest and protect our people from unseen invasion and other magical forces that might descend upon us. He kept a handful of banner men loyal to my father with him at all times, but in truth, the castle was but a glorified watchtower._

 _It was at Castle Black that my father, my brother and my family was betrayed._

 _Goefred, The White Crow, a man more loyal to my father than any other banner man in the North, lost his last son on the field of battle a year before the Night's King was to be born._

 _After generations of battle between the First Men and the children…he fell into despair and cursed the prophecy and my father's ability to lead the First Men of the North._

 _Like all families of the North, he feared the end and the pain it would bring._

 _In his anger and thirst for revenge and the 'reckoning' promised, he forged a secret alliance with a rogue faction of the Children to fulfill the prophecy set forth by the high priestess decades before—a prophecy they promised him would end the war..._

 _Only it wasn't just an end to the war that the Children sought...it was their own revenge—revenge against all of the First Men who had destroyed and taken their home from them in the thousands of years since our ancestors first set foot upon their land.  
_

 _It was in a moment of betrayal and weakness that Goefred and those loyal to him, abducted my brother, bound him and handed him over to the Children of the Forest._

 _With their power and drawing out his own against him, they created the abomination he became…"_

Jon paused as he felt a tear fall down his face, then continued to read on...

" _When I was a boy of nine, I watched as my brother was chosen by the Gods._

 _As a man of thirty, with a family of his own and a dead father to whom he had sworn an oath—I built a wall that would forever stand and turned my back on my own blood._

 _For shame. Gods forgive me._

 _For shame._

 _To the free men and all those living, after he was sacrificed to the Gods, Taryn became known as the Night's King and was everything the priestess had promised._

 _He created the great reckoning upon men and Children alike and judged us with death and destruction… and I believe, he will judge our future generations to come._

 _But, out of deception, came one truth—one semblance of light...that the birth of the Night's King sparked a pact with the Children of the Forest that stands until this day, though bought, I will always feel, with the heaviest of prices._

 _Taryn's sacrifice…for good…for evil…even, years later, I'm still not sure what it all meant or how I am to kill someone of my own blood._

 _I pray to the Gods it is one day by my own hand, for I fear for others who try.  
_

 _But, I know I will not live that long._

 _Therefor, the task may lie before the generations of Starks that follow me, who alone, know his true identity._

 _To the rest of the kingdoms and their peoples, the story of the Night's King is a mixture of myths and I and my kin have done everything in our power to keep it that way. Some may not even believe that he is real-that the power he possesses is real.  
_

 _It would be a mistake not to do so._

 _The Night's King cannot be killed by fire like his legion. Dragon glass, Valyrian steel and dragon fire shall be the heirlooms of my kingdom, though few pieces still remain after so many years of war against the army my brother has created._

 _I pray to the Gods that one day, someone may be strong enough to wield it against him...so far no one has come close._

 _As I write this, I have sent men to the Fist to safeguard what is left, but Gods only know if it will ever be found._

 _For now, I have built a wall around my kingdom, around my family, around my heart... and my greatest fear is that it will never thaw."_

 _# # # # # # # #_

"Gods…" Jon whispered with a small gasp of disbelief as he sat back in his chair in front of the writing desk in his old rooms.

His mind raced with so many thoughts he couldn't bring them coherently together.

Then he whispered, "A fate not entirely our own, forces beyond our control...betrayed by those we trusted..." Jon smirked as he reached over and picked up a cup of ale sitting next to the nearly snuffed out candle he had been reading by and raised it, "The Stark family tradition lives on..."

Then he grimaced as he took a drink.


	15. Chapter 15

Sansa breathed deeply as she opened her eyes and reached out a hand to Jon's side of their bed.

Her heart pinged a little when she didn't find Jon there, but smiled when she saw Ghost lying beside her in her husband's place, his red eyes softening on her as her fingers made contact with his white fur.

"Is our boy still at it?" she asked as she rolled over to face the dire wolf, who rested snout over paws on Jon's pillow, as Sansa continued to pet him gently along his backside

Ghost made a faint whining noise and Sansa smirked, "Did he ask you to stay with me and keep me warm, protect me?"

Ghost lifted his head and then lowered it as he snuggled closer to her and she smiled.

Who ever said a dire wolf couldn't show familial love in certain moments?

"Thank you…" Sansa whispered as she continued to run her hand through his fur and leaned forward, resting her chin on Ghost's neck as she looked toward the windows.

It was not long after sunrise by the looks of the sky.

Jon would have been awake all night…

Suddenly, a soft humming emanated from nearby.

Ghost lifted his head and brought Sansa's with it and she watched as his ears twitched.

They both soon realized it was coming from the hallway outside.

It was a man's voice humming and then singing softly.

" _Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, Lavender's green…"  
_

Sansa's heart dropped and her eyes softened…

It couldn't be.

" _When I am King, dilly dilly, You shall be Queen…"_

"Father…" Sansa whispered, quickly throwing aside the bed covers and, grabbing her dressing robe from the end of the bed, let her feet softly hit the floor about the same time as Ghost leaped off the bed on the other side and met her at the door.

" _Who told you so, dilly dilly,Who told you so?  
'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, That told me so…." _

Sansa threw the latch and slowly opened the door to her chambers and looked out, up and down the hall.

Her eyes widened when she saw the last shadow of a tall man with strawberry blonde hair, dressed in leather armor a carrying someone in his arms, turn the east corner.

Her breath hitched and she threw her dressing gown around her shoulders and quickly followed, Ghost on her heels.

" _Call up your friends, dilly, dilly, set them to work,  
Some to the fork, dilly dilly, some to the plow…" _

Sansa walked quickly as she tried to follow the shadow man

" _Some to the hay, dilly dilly, some to thresh corn…  
Whilst you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm…"_

When she finally turned the corner of the hall, her eyes widened when she realized he was gone.

But, his voice was not…

" _Lavender's green, dilly, dilly, Lavender's blue…"_

Sansa continued to walk forward and came across one of the bedchamber doors cracked open, morning light spilling out into the still torch lit hall.

 _"If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you…"_

Quietly, she pushed the door open and her eyes softened and a small smile slowly crossed her face as she saw Jorah Mormont laying a sleeping Lyanna Mormont on the canopied bed in the center of the room.

" _Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly, and the lambs play…"_ he continued to sing as he pulled off her riding boots one by one and tossed them on the floor, _"_ _We shall be safe, dilly, dilly, out of harm's way…"_

Jorah then slowly sat on the side of the bed as he pulled a quilt over her and she stirred contently, her eyes fluttering under their eyelids, as he brought the fingers of his left hand to brush strands of loose hair from her forehead.

" _I love to dance, dilly, dilly, I love to sing…When I am King, dilly, dilly, you'll be my Queen…"_ he sang _,_ " _Who told me so, dilly, dilly, Who told me so? I told myself, dilly, dilly, I told me so…"_

Jorah then leaned forward and kissed her temple and whispered, _"_ You are so loved, Lyanna…I've missed you…I've missed my heart. _"_

Then he continued singing as he pulled back, _"Lavender's green, dilly dilly, Lavender's blue…If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you…"_

Suddenly, he seemed to sense he was not alone and looked back over his shoulder to Sansa.

He gave her a sad smile, a tear running down his face and she tried to give him a reassuring one.

Jorah straightened himself and gently stood off the bed as to not disturb Lyanna he continued to sing to the little girl on the bed.

 _"_ _Who told you so, dilly, dilly, who told you so? 'Twas my own heart, dilly, dilly, that told me so..."_

Jorah kept his soft blue eyes trained on his beloved cousin as he slowly backed out of the room toward Sansa and the door.

" _Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, Lavender's green…When I am King, dilly dilly, You shall be my Queen…"_

Slowly, he pulled the door closed behind him as he finished, " _Who told you so, dilly dilly? Who told you so? 'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so…"_

# # # # # # # # # #

"My Lady…" Jorah bowed as he turned to Sansa in the hallway, discreetly wiping the tear on his cheek away, "Lyanna fell asleep in the Great Hall, sitting with me while I conversed with Varys and Lord Baelish well into the morn, so I carried her up to the guest chambers. I hope I didn't disturb your rest—"

"Of course not, Ser Jorah…" Sansa replied, "And, _please_ , forgive _me_. I didn't mean to intrude on such a private moment—"

"There is nothing to forgive, My Lady," Jorah smiled softly, though somewhat embarrassed to be caught in such a tender moment

Sansa looked away for a moment, trying to keep her face from crumbling, "It's silly to say, but…" she looked up to Jorah and her ice blue eyes welled a little with tears, "I—I thought you might be my father—his spirit, I mean…I know it sounds _silly_ and selfish…a little girl's dream…" she trailed off for a moment to get her emotional bearings, then continued, "You see, they beheaded my father in Kings Landing, so it couldn't be his flesh but _still_ —"

"A daughter's hope…" Jorah whispered kindly and Sansa smiled sadly and nodded.

"I _was_ sorry to hear of your father's death, My Lady," Jorah continued, "He was a kind and fair man."

"That song you were singing to Lyanna…" Sansa reminisced, sadly, "My father used to sing that song to me when I was little…that's why I thought…." She trailed off then shook her head, "When he'd carry me through the Wolf's Wood on his back or at bedtime as I drifted off to sleep…" she then lifted her eyes to Ser Jorah as she came out of her thoughts, "You sing it quite beautifully."

"I'm not a singer or a poet, My Lady," Jorah replied, scoffing a laugh, then his face softened as he glanced back over his shoulder toward the closed door behind him and his sleeping young cousin behind it, "But, I'd do _anything_ for that little girl in there and she _loves_ that song…always has."

"After all she has suffered, I'm glad that she has family with her again," Sansa said kindly

Jorah's face fell for a moment and he looked down to his hands, "I—I always wanted children of my own—an entire house _full_ of small voices and running feet—but, my wife, sadly, could never carry a child to term. I believe she grew distant and hardened by it…especially, when my own desperate heart caused me to grow closer and closer to my cousin. And, _then,_ my wife, began to value other things… _finer_ things…"

"As my father was Warden of the North, I've heard of your troubles, Ser Jorah," Sansa interjected sympathetically, "And I'm sorry for them. Knowing what you did then, as a woman and a wife now myself, I know you only did it to save your marriage and make your wife happy. The deeds were wrong yes, but I can see what could drive a good man to such desperation..."

Jorah lifted his head and nodded, "Unfortunately trying to fill the void in my wife's life, left a void in _mine_. It cost me my name, my inheritance, my honor, the respect of my father…and, unfortunately, I wasn't ever able to make that right again before he died," then his face brightened a little with hope, "You know, when I left King's Landing, bound for the North— _for home_ —I had reservations. I was almost certain that my Lyanna would turn away from me when she saw me…but…when she _didn't_ …"

He closed his eyes in happy relief, "I've already lost two loves of my life. I don't think my heart could have survived losing a third—to lose _her_."

"She's a very special young girl—a brave warrior—a wise ruler…" Sansa said, raising an eyebrow, "You and your family should be proud."

"I am," Jorah said then his eyes seemed to trail off into memory, "But, I'm afraid I may be rather biased. I was there the day she was born, you see. Maege and I were close from childhood. She was so much younger than my father. Her husband— her consort— was a worthless man. Not a strong man and weakened by vice. He wasn't even there the day Lyanna arrived into this world…but, _I was_ and so was my father. My father waited outside, but I was in the birthing chamber with Maege. I helped the only midwife Maege hadn't banished from the room…." he smirked, remembering his aunt's temper and willfulness… "I helped her pull Lyanna into this world and I was the first one to hold her before handing her to her mother. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and it's something I'll never forget. I knew I'd never have an heir, but I knew in that moment that I would always have Lyanna, that we would be the continuation of House Mormont. She brought beauty, joy and meaning to my life in a way I never knew existed before...at least, until I pledged my service to Daenerys Targaryen. But, I tell you, years ago, when I had to leave Bear Island..." Jorah broke away from his memory and his eyes softened as he looked upon Sansa, "I hope you and your husband come to know that kind of love and joy and beauty in your own lives, someday, My Lady."

"Thank you, Ser Jorah," Sansa said, resisting the urge to blush at everyone's keen desires that she produce an heir to Winterfell and the sooner the better, "As do I."

"And if the Gods are good, he or she will favor their Mother in both beauty and brains..." came a familiar voice behind them and Ghost snarled as Sansa turned to see Lord Baelish.


	16. Chapter 16

_((Ok. Ya'll. Don't freak out or have a panic attack on me...please. Song is "Soldier" by Fleurie. Enjoy! ))_

 _ **The Free City of Braavos, Six Week Earlier…**_

 _Lord Varys looked up from where he stood on the stone steps of the House of Black and White as the massive black and ebony wierwood doors opened and he was met by a man._

 _Varys took in a breath and steadied his gaze on the man Arya Stark once knew as Jaqen H'ghar._

 _Jaqen's unique eyes were immediately recognizable to Varys and though he was at first startled by the revelation, recovered quickly.  
_

" _What does a spider from King's Landing desire of the Many Faced God?" Jaqen asked, his gaze kind, stern and fearless all at the same time, seemingly to expect Varys to be one of the millions who have come to the House of Black and White to be brought a quick and painless death._

 _The question is…." Varys said, taking another step up on the stone steps toward the open door, "What does a man, who serves the Many Faced God, need of a spider from King's Landing?"_

 _Something stirred behind Jaqen's eyes and he opened the door further and side stepped and nodded to allow Varys pass through._

 _# # # # # # # # # #_

"Lord Baelish…" Sansa said as politely as she could as she reached down and took hold of Ghost by the scruff of his fur.

"Good morning, My Lady," Lord Baelish said, bowing his head, then, when he lifted his eyes, looked Sansa up and down in a way that made her want to reach up with her free hand and make sure her dressing robe was completely shut.

Baelish's eyes moved to Jorah Mormont for a moment, then quickly turned back to Sansa

"Is everything alright, My Lady?" he asked then smiled as kindly as a snake could when seducing a mouse, "You're awake quite early considering last night's festivities and promising news..."

"Lady Sansa was just returning to her chambers after helping me put my cousin to bed," Jorah chimed in, trying to help and stepping forward as if ready to step between her and Baelish at a moment's notice.

"I would think My lady would be in her chambers with her husband—" Peter said coyly

"Truth be told my husband had a hard time sleeping considering all of last nights 'festivities' as you put it," Sansa replied, hastily, keeping a hold on Ghost and looking for a way around Baelish, "He's been in the keep tower—his old rooms when he was a boy— reading most of the night."

"Ah…" Baelish smirked, then blocked Sansa's path as she tried to pass him and he gave her the look…

She had seen the look before.

"But, you _wanted_ me to tell you that…" Sansa whispered in horror, thoughts suddenly flooding her mind and bringing bile up into her throat as she choked out, "You went to our rooms and didn't know where to find him...but, now _you do_ …"

"But, now I do," Baelish smirked and his eyes flickered, looking past Sansa to Jorah Mormont who had heard her words and now reached for his sword.

But, before he could fully draw, a knight of Vale threw a black hood over his head and disarmed him.

"Run, Sansa! _Run_!" Jorah cried under the hood as he struggled

"Hurry and tell the others!" Baelish barked at the knight who held Jorah

Peter then quickly reached for Sansa, but Ghost intervened, leaping forward and grabbing hold of Baelish's forearm.

Baelish cried out in agony as he tried to get away, but Ghost threw him to the ground.

Sansa didn't stay to watch what happened to Littlefinger or Ser Jorah.

All she could think of was Jon and she immediately took the opportunity get away, racing down the hallway.

" _Guards!"_ she screamed

# # # # # # # # #

Jon didn't realize he had nodded off in his chair with his feet propped up on the writing desk next to the memoirs of Bran 'The Builder' until the tower door opened in haste.

Jon's eyes opened suddenly and, disoriented and startled, he nearly fell out of his chair as Lord Varys swept into the room and closed the door.

"Lord Var—" Jon started, but Varys cut him off as the Lord of Winterfell ran a hand over his face and came to his feet next to his desk.

"I'm afraid there is _no time_ for morning formalities your grace," Varys said, a tense urgency in his voice, "I need you to do something for me right now, without question—for your wife—for the North—and for Westeros."

Suddenly, Jon's eyes moved to the closed door and his ears focused on the noises coming from beyond it.

Hurried footsteps were ascending the tower stairs with purpose…

Soldier's boots…

Varys briefly looked over his shoulder and then stepped forward toward Jon.

"They're coming sooner than I had expected…" then his eyes met Jon's with fear, but purpose, "I need you to do _two_ things for me my Lord—"

Jon immediately side stepped, his eyes breaking from Varys as he looked to Longclaw leaning against the end of his old canopy bed.

" _No!_ " Varys cried, reaching hand out and placing it on Jon's bare chest to stop him, "You _can't_. That's not how this will work."

"What do you mean _I can't?!"_ Jon chided, his mind reeling as he heard the boots approaching faster

"That's the first thing I need you to do, My Lord…" Varys said, removing his hand and looking into Jon's eyes intently, "You cannot struggle…you cannot fight. I need your word on that or this is all for not..."

" _What?!"_ Jon asked, turning pale and confused

"Also…" Varys interjected, seeming to measure out his words as the steps grew closer, moving quickly around Jon to the windows of the tower and hurriedly closing and latching the shutters, enclosing the room in complete darkness, "When they come through that door…"

The boot steps charged closer and louder…

"When they come through that door," Varys said behind him, in the blackness, "I need you to speak aloud these words for them to hear… **'** valar morghulis'".

# # # # # # # # #

"Guards!" Sansa continued to scream as she raced down to the next level of the castle, "Someone, help! _Please_!"

Sansa rounded the end of the next hall toward the main stairwell and ran directly into the chest of Ser Davos Seaworth

"Sansa?!" Davos huffed, then he grabbed hold of her as she fought him blindly for a moment, not knowing him to be friend or foe, "My Lady! It's _alright_. It's me, your safe!" Davos said, taking her face in his hands, "You're safe!"

Brianne and some of the Winterfell guard soon arrived, close behind Davos, all of them having heard her screams.

"My Lady…What _happened_?! Are you hurt—" Brianne began urgently, reaching out, but Sansa caught her breath and cried out, " _It's Jon!"_

" _What?!"_ Davos asked, raising a concern brow as he tried to meet Sansa's gaze, "What about Jon?"

"Littlefinger…I—I think he plans to have him killed… _please_! Help him!"

Davos didn't need to hear another word.

Within seconds, he handed Sansa over to Brianne and signaling to the guard, took off down the hallway, sprinting over the ramparts toward the south tower where Jon had spent his childhood out of everyone's way.

A place so far away now that it was a severe disadvantage to those trying to save him.

# # # # # # # #

 _ **T**_ _ **he Free City of Braavos, Six Weeks Earlier…**_

" _A man is curious why a spider would travel so far from home," Jaqen H'ghar said as he threw back the hood of his robes as he took a seat on the edge of the stone pool in the center of the Great Hall of the House of Black and White and gestured for Varys to take a seat next to him._

 _Varys trained his eyes on the architecture and the carvings of the Gods of the many religions carved into the pillars of the hall as he sat down, then turned his attention to Jaqen and said,_ " _I leave tomorrow for Dorne and I need a man's help…"_

" _I thought the spider said the man needed something from the spider…interesting," Jaqen replied, "But, very well, for a price, a man will please the spider and the Many Faced God…you may speak the names and a man shall sacrifice them—"_

" _I'm not here for that…" Varys countered, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice_

" _Very well, then how else may a man be of service?" Jaqen sighed_

" _Daenerys Targaryen will soon be taking King's Landing and the Iron Throne. I am assisting her by gathering powerful allies to her side—"_

 _Jaqen immediately stood and folded his hands firmly in front of him, "A man is no one and therefor does not concern himself with the political winds that blow in any direction around him…."_

" _Oh, but I think a man_ _does_ _," Varys interjected, standing as well, "I know for a fact that in this game all of Westeros is playing, I am three steps ahead…always have been. But, I venture a guess…and I have little birds to back me up on this…that the man before me now is six moves ahead of everyone else….even me…" he cocked his head and his eyes narrowed with curiosity, "Why else would a man take so much interest in the welfare and training of Arya Stark of Winterfell…an otherwise ordinary orphan girl he met on the road from King's Landing? Coincidence? I think not. For when did the Faceless Men become so interested in training little girls?"_

 _Jaqen's face stayed stoic, but Varys could see his eyes soften at the mention of Arya's name._

" _Why would a man care so much?" Varys inquired further, stepping closer, "Why not let her be another sacrifice to the Many Faced God when she failed...as any child so inevitably would?"_

" _Arya Stark did not fail," Jaqen countered, still stoic_

" _Ah…." Varys pointed out, a smirk on his face, seemingly vindicated by Jaqen's words, "And that is why I believe a man knew exactly what he was doing when he tracked Arya Stark from King's Landing and…may I be so bold to say, when he set her free...Of course you would help the Stark girl...it was your one weakness..." then his face softened in awe, "The rumors are true then…. I supposed I should have known upon now meeting you face to face….I saw the eyes…they are unmistakable, legend even."_

 _Jaqen straightened in reaction, but did not back away or show any fear._

" _Did Arya Stark know she was looking at your true face all along?"_

" _Arya Stark suspected nothing," Jaqen said, resigned to his fate, "No one has seen a man's face in many years. A man has lived a quiet life in service of the Many Faced God for decades…."_

 _The Spider was good. His secret had been safe for nearly two decades._

 _Though, after all this time, he still had only had one._

" _The man you were before you were no one, never took pleasure in the kill, he did it out of necessity—"_

" _A man still kills only out of necessity," Jaqen immediately replied_

" _A man is paid," Varys countered again, raising an eyebrow_

" _A man is…." Jaqen nodded in affirmative, "A tribute to the Many Faced God. This life is different from the life the man had before...but it has purpose."_

 _Varys turned on his heel away from Jaqen and started pacing alongside the great stone pool_

" _What if the Spider were to offer the man payment, but not to take a life…." Varys said, then turned back on his heel to face Jaqen, "To save it."_

 _Jaqen thought for a moment, the wheels in his mind visibly turning as his eyes fixed on Varys before he said, "Speak a name."_

" _Jon Stark of Winterfell…." Varys said, his voice calm and steady, but his eyes filled with the thrill of the reveal, "Formally known as Jon Snow, Ned Stark's proclaimed bastard, but now soon to be the proclaimed King of—"_

 _Jaqen H'ghar immediately held up a hand to silence Varys, his face unreadable, but no longer stoic_

 _Jaqen took in a breath as he sat down again on the edge of the pool._

 _The Faceless Man looked down in thought for a few moments, seeming to collect himself, then looked up and said to Varys, the stoicism in his face returning, "A man does not need to be paid. A man will choose to do this for himself and not the Many Faced God."_

" _I thought a man might," Varys smiled kindly then said, "Very fortunate as it was a task the spider could trust to no other. Besides, a spider would like a man to have this gift before the end of his days..."_

" _A man is grateful," Jaqen replied_

" _Yes…well, I leave for Dorne tomorrow, then King's Landing with the armada soon after. If all goes as you and I foresee from here, a man should set out for the North as soon as can be arranged."_

 _Jaqen gave a curt nod and Varys bowed, then slipping his hands formally under his robes once more, turned on his heel and took his leave._

 _ **Solider keep on marching on,  
Head down till the work is done…**_

 _He only made it a few steps before he stopped and took in a breath before he said over his shoulder to Jaqen H'ghar, "You should know…"_

 _Then after a long pause Varys said, "He has her eyes."_

 _ **Waiting on the morning sun...  
**_

Jaqen H'ghar closed his eyes in pain at his words and Varys took in a sad breath before walking briskly and surely toward the open black and white gates, leaving Jaqen H'ghar sitting on the edge of the stone pool with his face in his hands.

 _ **Solider keep on**_ ** _marching_** _ **on…**_

# # # # # # # #

 _ **Head in the dust, feet in the fire,  
Labour on that midnight wire… **_

Davos and the guards slowed their approach as they reached the stairwell to the tower where they were suddenly met with at least five Knights from the Vale.

They had been posted there to keep anyone from coming up.

Davos's nostrils flared and he raised his sword and immediately, the Knights of the Vale rushed forward toward Ser Davos and the Winterfell guard.

Swords clanged and men groaned as Davos and his men cut through them.

 _ **Listening for that angel choir,  
You got nowhere to run…**_

When they breached the stairwell and climbed over the bodies, Davos immediately ducked the swinging sword of one of ten men in the hallway corridor outside the door to Jon's chambers.

 **Y _ou wanna take a drink of that promise land,_**  
 ** _Gotta wipe the dirt off your hands…._**

As Davos continued to cut through the men, he saw a figure with long red hair run through the fray, past him, dodging swords.

It was Sansa.

"Sansa!" Davos cried just before his sword crossed with the blade of another knight and Davos used the leverage to kick the man in the chest away from him and against the stone wall.

 _ **Careful son you got dreamers plans,  
But it gets hard to stand…**_

"Jon!" Sansa cried out as she climbed over the slain and grabbed for the half open door to her husband's boyhood room and pushed it open. _**  
**_

" _No!_ " she suddenly screamed, her face filling with horror when she beheld the sight inside and immediately felt Brianne grabbed her from behind.

 _ **Solider keep on marching on….**_

Five of Littlefinger's soldiers stood over Jon's lifeless body, stabbing him over and over, delivering their last blows to end his life.

 _ **Head down till the work is done,  
Waiting on the morning sun….**_

" _No! No!_ " Sansa screamed trying to pry herself away from Brianne, but Brianne continued to hold her close to her cold armor.

 _ **Solider keep on marching on…**_

Soon, Ser Davos and his man pushed past them and into the room, Davos immediately slitting the throat of the man who had just plunged another knife thrust into Jon from behind.

The Winterfell guard took care of the others as Davos fell to his knees in despair next to Jon's body.

 _ **Quiet now, you're gonna wake the beast,  
Hide your soul out of his reach….**_

When the other attackers were felled, Brianne reluctantly released her hold on Sansa and she immediately flew to Jon's opposite side.

 _ **Shiver to that broken beat,  
Dark into the heat….**_

"Jon _….no_ … _please…no_ …" she whispered, tears streaming down her face as she tentatively reached out and took her husband's blood soaked face into her hands, his lifeless eyes looking up at her, "Don't leave me here alone…"

Davos closed his eyes as he placed a hand on his dead friend's shoulder.

There were a few moments of silence, then…

"Sansa…" Familiar voice suddenly sounded behind her and Davos opened his eyes and his breath hitched and, from across her husband's body, Sansa saw a wave of unfathomable relief cross his face.

It couldn't be…could it?

She immediately turned to look over her shoulder and gasped when she saw Jon walk out of the adjoining room of the chamber with Lord Varys at his side.

" _Oh, Gods_!" Sansa cried in relief, immediately standing and racing forward to leap into her husband's arms.

Davos leaned back and smiled in disbelief as he watched Jon and Sansa hold each other close and then kiss deeply.

He then turned and looked up to Brianne as she came to his side and they both looked toward Jon and Sansa and then toward Jon's body.

Suddenly, it moved and there was a small gasp of air.

Davos immediately came to his knees just as Varys rushed forward and pulled Jon's face off of Jaqen H'ghar.

"Gods…" Davos whispered, "Valar maghulius" and bowed to the dying man on the floor before him

"valar dohaeris…" Jaqen choked out then his eyes turned to Varys, his eyes pleading

"Please…before a man dies for his purpose…" he whispered, breathless and Varys nodded

"A man has fulfilled his promise and has earned his payment," Varys said kindly, then touched Jaqen's shoulder as he looked back over his shoulder and up to Jon and Sansa.

"My Lord," Varys said and Jon immediately turned his gaze toward him

Jon gently removed himself from Sansa's embrace, but still holding her hand, moved forward.

When he was on his knees at Jaqen's side, Varys moved and Jon let go of his wife's hand.

Jaqen smirked as he let his eyes focus and rake over the features of Jon's face for a long moment.

He tried to speak, but couldn't.

Jaqen looked to Varys.

 _ **Soldier keep on marching on….**_

"My Lord," Varys said, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder, "I would like you to meet the man who has saved your life tonight… Rhaegar Targaryen…your father."

Jon's face filled with a mixture of awe, confusion and pain as he met Jaqen's stunning blue and silver eyes, took note of the white blonde 'Targaryen' streak in the man's hair and watched the man's stoic face crumble.

 _ **Head down til the work is done…**_

"Eamonn…" Jaqen choked out a whisper as he weakly tried to reach up and touch his son's face.

Jon leaned forward and met him halfway and Jaqen gave a small smile and when his hand made contact with Jon's face, he closed his eyes in contentment,

When he opened them again, after a moment, Jaqen couldn't tear his eyes away from his son's eyes, focusing intently on them.

 _ **Waitin' on that morning sun….**_

"You _do_ have your mother's eyes…" Jaqen finally whispered with fond remembrance, "If...If you have half of her heart, you will do well in this life..."

Then Jaqen's breath staggered and his eyes, still focused on his son, fixed and dilated and his hand fell slowly from Jon's face.

 _ **Soldier keep on marchin' on….**_


	17. Chapter 17

Jon took in a breath as he pulled a fresh shirt over his head as he sat on the edge of the bed in his and Sansa's chambers.

As he pulled it down over his torso, he felt Sansa's arms wrap around him from behind and wrap his hands in hers.

Jon closed his eyes at her touch as he felt her place her chin on his shoulder and press her cheek against his.

"I love you…" she whispered

"I love you…" he replied, his voice unsteady

Sansa took a breath and whispered with empathy, "I'm sorry…I'm _so_ sorry…I wish there was something that I could do or say—"

Jon turned around and faced her, taking her face into his hands as he leaned forward and kissed her deeply, relishing the feel of her hands in his hair.

When he pulled back, he kissed her forehead and whispered against her skin, "Right now, just your existence is a _huge comfort_ …"

Sansa gave a small smile as Jon sat back to face her.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Come," Jon called

Lord Varys came through the door, his hands folded under his robes, his eyes were sullen as they eyes flickered to Jon and Sansa before he bowed his head.

"My Lord, My Lady…" he said, then straightened, "Forgive the intrusion—"

Jon turned on the bed to face Varys, "How is Ser Jorah?"

" _Strong,_ My Lord," Varys replied, "The Maester believes that despite his wounds, he will pull through."

"That is welcome news," Jon sighed in relief, "Especially for the Lady Lyanna…"

"For _all_ of us," Sansa chimed in, "Please tell the Maester to come to me if he needs anything to make Ser Jorah more comfortable."

"I will, My Lady," Varys replied, nodding solemnly

"And Ghost?" Jon suddenly asked, looking down to his hands

"I had two of your guards bury him with honor in the Godswood, My Lord…" Varys answered, his voice softening

"Thank you," Jon said, his voice breaking, lifting his eyes to meet Lord Varys'

Sansa squeezed Jon's arm in sympathy. Her heart was breaking as well.

Ghost had saved her life, but though he had the upper hand against Littlefinger when Sansa made her escape, Ghost eventually suffered from the knife that Peter Baelish always kept on his person and somehow was able to plunge into the dire wolf's chest and then into the crown of his head.

"Any word on Lord Baelish and his conspirators?" Jon asked

"Baelish and the Knights of the Vale have fled, My Lord," Varys replied, "Ser Davos and the Winterfell guard have questioned some of those injured and left behind…I have not heard anything _definitive_ yet from those encounters. But, according to my little birds and my own observations, I think I must beg your grace's forgiveness…because I think Ser Jorah and I placed a target on your back the moment we arrived here from King's Landing and proclaimed you King of Westeros—"

"This _isn't your fault_ ," Jon said kindly and adamantly, holding up a hand to silence Varys, "Lord Baelish has been after what was mine for a long time."

"That's very kind of you to say, Your Grace, but I _do_ blame myself," Varys said sadly, "As I think Daenerys Targaryen's death changed everything for Lord Baelish and he suddenly realized that if he could kill you—"

"That's what he wanted that night that he came to my rooms," Sansa whispered, then realized that Jon and Varys' eyes were upon her, she faced them directly and spoke a little louder, "I think he was taking my measure— gauging my devotion to Jon and my intentions and ambitions for the Iron Throne. He still wanted me—still wanted me with him. And I foolishly believed him when, after I refused his advances, he promised to keep his loyalties intact…"

"Oh… he was loyal," Varys replied, "Until he saw the opportunity to kill Jon, kidnap you and use you to gain what he wanted. I'm guessing…and forgive me for being so bold, Your Graces…perhaps that he was hoping that you would soon fall pregnant with Jon's child—a legitimate heir under his protection, for whom he could serve as Regent until the child was able to take the Iron Throne or take the Iron Throne with Sansa alone."

Jon looked to Sansa, she was starting to tremble. Jon turned and took her into his arms, leaning forward and kissing her temple.

He didn't care that Varys was in the room as held Sansa tightly to him, reassuring her that she was safe.

Varys took in a breath, sensing that the subject needed to change, but unfortunately, he didn't have any happier news to share.

"My Lord," Varys said softly, "I have had your father's body taken to the north keep to prepare him for his final disposition. The Maester and a guard of honor are watching over him."

Jon closed his eyes as he pulled back from Sansa slightly and looked over his shoulder to Varys, "I want to see him."

Varys nodded, "Of course, My Lord, I knew you would. We will also need to make a final decision...that is whether to proclaim that the coup by Lord Baelish was success and have him lay in state as yourself or if you—"

"No. I will not live in fear, Lord Varys. I want every man, woman, child, Lord and Lady in the seven kingdoms to know that I am _alive_ and that Peter Baelish did not succeed, that Jon Stark, King of the North and Daenerys Targareyn's nephew and true heir is alive and well," Jon interjected adamantly and Varys gave a small, seemingly, proud smile

Jon continued, "I want my father burned with honor for the dragon that he was, but I also wish him to be conferred upon with the honors of the man he became —"

"Understood, My Lord. Rhaegar...or 'Jaqen H'ghar' as I knew him...had already left word for the Faceless Men of Braavos to come and confer such honors," Varys replied, "They should be here within a matter of days."

Jon nodded, gratefully, then said softly, "Thank you,"

"My Lord," Varys suddenly said, stepping forward and pulling one of his hands out from under his robes, "There is something here that I believe was meant for you—it...well, it was found on your father's person by the Maester. I told him I would deliver it safely into your hands."

Jon's eyes narrowed in curiosity as he looked upon the small, folded piece of parchment. It looked old and worn, as thought it had been pressed inside the Faceless Man's robes for many years.

After a moment, he slowly reached out and took the parchment into his hands.

"Thank you," Jon whispered, his eyes still fixed on the parchment and his mind racing at the idea of its contents.

"My Lord…My Lady," Varys bowed, deciding that now was as good a time as any to depart.

Jon took in a solemn breath as he started to unfold the parchment then felt Sansa's chin resting on his shoulder once more.

"Would you like to be alone?" she asked softly

Jon closed his eyes and shook his head and Sansa stayed put, but placed a reassuring arm around him as he completely unfolded the last worldly possession of the Faceless Man who had saved his life and began to read.

# # # # # # # # # #

 _Eamonn,_

 _I am not exactly certain when you will find this. It will either be on my person when I am on my elderly deathbed, when I die in service of the Many Faced God and fail him or it will be found by you when I defy the Many Faced God and choose to die in service of my own flesh and blood as I have waited so long to do._

 _So many years of a man's life has passed and there is so much to explain and only so much parchment._

 _But, my beloved son, if there are only three things I wish you to know about me after I have departed this life, it can be simply put as thus…_

 _First, that I loved your mother. I love her still. She was a light and presence in this world that I knew, from the very moment I first saw her, I couldn't ignore and had to hold flickering in my hand, if even for the shortest amount of time._

 _Second, that you, Eamonn Targaryen, my last born child, were the product of a love that brought me so much joy in my last years in the world I once knew and whose existence I will be forever grateful for. Though I was not there to hold you in my arms the day you came into this world or any day thereafter, I have prayed that one day we might meet before the end of my days, whether you knew my true identity at the time or not._

 _Third, that when I made a deal with the Many Faced God all those decades ago and became a man who is 'no one', I did not do so because I did not wish to be a son, a brother, husband or a father. I did it because I did not wish to be a king—a burden which, to this day, I do not regret throwing away. For it was indeed a burden, something that was inherited, not earned and lacked meaning and purpose for me in this life. Know that I, myself, held no ill will against anyone whom my father did. The wars I fought were his alone and I was tired of fighting._

 _I confess now, that it was not I who confronted Robert Baratheon at the Trident, but a Faceless Man of Braavos that I had hired many months before to assume my face and kill him…if only to earn my freedom. I fought in the battle, of course, hidden among the ranks, but the Faceless Man took my face and I another's. He was to kill Robert Baratheon and then pass from all existence when the fight was over…as was I to do with my beloved Lyanna. But, unfortunately, that is not the way things turned out._

 _By now, you would have heard the legends and, if you are fortunate, the truth._

 _When the blood washed away and the smoke cleared, I returned to the Tower of Joy to find you and your mother, gone._

 _When I learned that Lyanna's brother, Lord Eddard Stark had buried his 'slain' sister and claimed a bastard from war as his own, that even my wife Elia and my two other beautiful, young, innocent children had been slaughtered by the Lannisters, and my remaining siblings had fled Kings Landing, I knew there was nothing left for me in Westeros._

 _My grief was unfathomable, dark, and deep and I made a decision to let the waves take me._

 _I departed for the Free City of Braavos where I spent the next twenty years becoming a skilled artist in death and deception, teaching others to do the same and serving the Many Faced God._

 _In time, like any truly Faceless Man of Braavos, I became 'no one'._

 _But, when one becomes a Faceless Man, to truly become 'no one', a man must renounce his name, his tongue, his life years before service, his hopes, his dreams, his loves and hates._

 _Over the years, this man was able to let go of all of those things required by the Many Faced God, except one…_

 _Love._

 _It was something I kept well hidden in the face of my service to the Many Faced God for many years—something I never considered a betrayal, but a piece of solace._

 _Most people would think hate would be the thing I could never renounce, but I learned to let go of my hate long ago_

 _Forgive me, my son, for what I am and what I am not—that I never could claim you or reveal myself for fear of what that might mean for those left of my family line. I have spent years being 'no one' and have no right to be a father, let alone call myself yours, but I hope you will believe me when I say that I have always loved you, Eamonn, and will continue to do so long after they have burned my body._

 _And one day, when you have a child of your own, I pray that you realize just how much._


	18. Chapter 18

"The Lords of all the houses need not be troubled to gather, I am well—" Jon asked, speaking over his shoulder toward Ser Davos who now ascended the stone stairs behind him to the Maester's tower.

"Yes, My Lord," Davos replied, "But, they wish to _see_ their King after the attempt on your life. Many of them feel responsible for what happened—"

"Well," Jon quipped raising an eyebrow as he stopped at the large wooden door and turned back to face Ser Davos, "Most of them _were_ passed out in the Great Hall when it happened…"

Davos chuckled, "True."

Jon smirked, then looked somberly down to his feet, "No one is to blame. All the same, I'll make an appearance in the Great Hall to make this known to all the houses. This was unavoidable. I had actually—for Sansa's sake—feared this day would come for quite some time."

"And now we've lost the Vale," Davos said, straightening and Jon nodded sadly

Davos looked Jon up and down, then to the large heavy wooden door to the Maester's chambers, then back to Jon.

A few moments passed before Davos touched Jon on the shoulder, bringing the Lord of Winterfell out of his thoughts.

Davos gave him a reassuring smile, knowing the task that lay ahead for his King.

"I'll meet you in the Great Hall after…hmm?" he said, encouragingly

# # # # # # # # # #

The door to the Maester's chambers opened and Jon stepped inside, his dark eyes widening when he saw the four men in Winterfell guard uniform, that were supposed to be standing in honor formation around the body of the Faceless Man known as Jaqen H'ghar, instead moving methodically around the table, speaking ancient Braavosi as they leaned over the dead man, preforming rituals Jon couldn't see.

Jon immediately stepped forward, shocked, but Varys stepped quickly out of a corner behind the door and revealed himself, his voice stopping Jon in his tracks, "My Lord…"

Jon heeded Varys' words, but narrowed his eyes as he looked from Varys back to the four guards and their final actions—An ebony colored man at the head of the table, slowly placing two silver coins of the Faceless Man of Braavos over Jaqen's closed eyes, a blonde man covering Jaqen's naked body up to his wounded torso with a linen sheet and two others—a teenager and a bald man—laying his hands in gentle configuration at his sides.

"Forgive me, My Lord…" Varys said, now coming to Jon's side, "This is the contingent from Braavos that we were waiting on… _however,_ it seems that they infiltrated the Winterfell guard days ago."

Jon's eyes flickered to the floor and the bucket and cloth underneath the table at the men's feet, along with a pile of bloody clothing—Jon's clothing—that Jaqen had been wearing when he died.

The men had undressed and methodically washed the body with care.

Jon's eyes lifted again when Varys made the introductions, "My Lord Stark, may I present the Legendary Faceless Men of Braavos—a small representation of the legion that serves the Many Faced God."

Jon's eyes softened as Varys returned the favor, "Gentlemen," he said and the men all now turned to face Jon with stoic faces—faces that Jon was certain were not their true faces, at least according to the stories he had heard of the assassins known as the 'Faceless Men' of Braavos, "May I present Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King of the North—blood and kin of a man who was 'no one'."

"Valar morghulis…" Jon said in greeting, uncertain what else to say

"Valar dohaeris," the men all said in unison and all bowed at the waist as if they were one entity

"Thank you for coming," Jon said after a moment, looking over his father's body and noticing for the first time that his hair was completely blonde—Targaryen blonde—no doubt the Faceless Men had thoroughly washed out the river clay die he had used to hastily conceal it for decades.

"The honor is ours," the tallest and most handsome of the four men, the teenager, said as he stepped forward from the foot of the stone table, then looked back over his shoulder toward the man, once known as Jaqen H'ghar's , lifeless body.

After a moment of silence, the teenager straightened, turned back and looking Jon up and down, "When we become 'no one', we renounce our family names, our titles and lands, our mother tongues, our hopes, dreams, loves and hates. Apparently, a man who lays here was able to let go of all of these things… _except one_. And he is standing before us."

Jon's face paled a little, unsure what to say, but the teenager continued, "Because you are a man's son and his last act upon this earth was _not_ in service to The Many Faced God, his face does not belong to The Many Faced God," he then signaled to himself before he bowed his head courteously, "This man must now humbly ask a man's son for his face, for it is only _his_ gift to give to the Many Faced God, not the man's."

Jon raised an eyebrow then breathed out " _His face_?"

Jon looked over his shoulder toward Varys for clarification, but before the eunuch could speak, the ebony colored man stepped forward from around the head of the table.

"For generations, our fallen brothers have provided faces for our endeavors, as much as our tributes and those who have asked for the gift of death have, in honor of the Many Faced God," the ebony man said, then looked down to Jaqen's body, "A man belongs in the hall with those who have passed before him. It is the way of things. That is why we ask the son for the honor of a man's face, so that he may continue to serve the Many Faced God in death as he did in life."

Jon 's face crumbled slightly as he looked past the four men now to the peaceful face of his father—the father whom tales were written, but whom he had never truly known.

From the man he had thought was his father, Eddard Stark, he had learned about and understood honor and the importance of tradition, but, still, something inside of Jon resisted what the men were asking of him now…

"I _can't_ ," Jon finally whispered, his eyes still focused on Jaqen's body, looking past the men

Jon closed his eyes for a moment then spoke louder, his eyes opening and meeting the teenager's green eyes across the room in front of him, " _I'm sorry_. I cannot honor this request or offer this gift…even to the Many Faced God. A man became 'no one', it is true. He _chose_ that life. But, he also made another choice. When he died saving my life, a man chose not to act as a Faceless Man of Braavos, but as Rhaegar Targaryen— _my father_ —and in death, my father he will stay…with his body intact."

The ebony man's nostrils flared and he stepped forward, seemingly in protest, but the teenager held up his hand to stop him and when the ebony man stopped immediately, Jon sensed that behind the mask of such a young man, the Faceless Man that wore it was wise beyond his years and definitely someone the others respected.

"We shall respect the decision of a man's son…" the teenager said solemnly, though Jon could see the slight disappointment in his eyes as he lowered his hand. He then looked back at his comrades, "The man who was formally Rhaegar Targaryen, then Jaqen H'ghar, shall keep his face."

The other three nodded.

"So it is spoken, so it shall be…" they answered in unison

Jon nodded gratefully and the bald man, the blonde man, and the ebony man bowed again, then filed past Jon as they left the room.

Only the teenager stood before them now.

"This man… your father…" he said, "Know that he was a true and faithful servant of the Many Faced God. The House of Black and White will be sorry to lose such a man…a _good_ man."

Jon's face must have shown the look of confusion he suddenly and inexplicably felt at the teenager's words.

"A man's son questions this?" the teenager asked, curiously, "He shouldn't. His father was a great man who became a good one. No one could ask for better in this life."

Jon's face softened as the teenager stepped forward and now met Jon's gaze steadily as he said, "When your father fled Westeros and came to our order two decades ago, he _was_ a _great_ man…Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone…" the teenager smirked, "But, in his heart of hearts, what Rhaegar already possessed was not _all_ that he wanted from this life. That is why he tossed those symbols that represented his 'greatness' –his jeweled armor with the three headed dragon, his sword, his gold, all of his worldly possessions, into the Braavosi harbor the day he arrived to us. He chose to become 'no one' and dedicated years of his life to the Many Faced God. He was humble, kind, and did not waiver in the face of death, for he had seen it many times… _instead_ , he chose to offer it as a gift and did so with compassion and thought for his fellow man. No task was beneath him, no person unworthy of his time or his effort…" the teenager suddenly took a step closer to Jon, "Yes, Rhaegar Targaryen was a _great_ man, but the man he _became,_ the Faceless Man known to many as Jaqen H'ghar…was a _good_ one."

Jon smirked and nodded, acknowledging the teenager's kind words, then the Faceless Man took his leave, quietly walked between the two men, closing the large chamber door behind him.

Jon closed his eyes to gather his bearings.

When he opened them again, he took in a breath and slowly walked forward, his eyes trained on the lifeless body before him on the stone table in the center of the room, the morning light casting an almost brilliant ambiance on the man who was once Rhaegar Targaryen.

When he finally came alongside the table, Jon tentatively reached out and placed a hand on the man's cold left arm lying at his side.

He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in as he surveyed his father's body from head to toe—from his long Targaryen blonde hair, coin covered eyes, to the features of his face, then down to his chiseled chest and arms partially covered by the linen and revealing only one of the six stab wounds he received in his son's place the night before.

Suddenly, Jon felt a presence and saw Varys come to his side out of the corner of his eye.

"The way the Faceless Men spoke of him, it sounded like he was the best of all of them..." Jon whispered, his eyes now looking to his father's face, "Of all the Targaryens, I mean."

"Yes," Varys replied softly, "I believe so. And when they said all of those things I couldn't help but realize something…."

"And what is that, Lord Varys?" Jon asked, his focus still on his father

"That those Faceless Men could have just as easily been talking about _you_ as much as Rhaegar _…_ " Varys said directly

"No—" Jon shook his head, giving a dismissive smirk

"It's _true,"_ Varys replied, letting out a sigh, "It's not just your father's chin and the shape of his eyes and cheek bones that I now see when I look into your face, My Lord, there is _more..._ though I tried to deny it for the sake of the realm _..._ "

Jon turned to face him and Varys smiled kindly as he said, "When I first came to King's Landing I, being the Master of Whispers immediately discovered as much truth as I could behind the Targaryens, the Baratheon accension to the throne- _everything_. I know exactly who Rhaegar Targaryen was before he was killed by Robert Baratheon in the fairytale stories told to the children of Westeros. He was a great man as they say. He also had a kind soul. He was not his father."

Jon's eyes met Varys' for a long moment and the Master of Whispers finally cocked his jaw before he said with dancing eyes, "You are more like him than you know, Jon."

A moment of silence passed between them as Varys seemed to read Jon's face, then let out another sigh, "You aren't coming back with us to King's Landing, are you? You have no desire to be a Targaryen."

Jon closed his eyes as he wrapped his hands tighter around his father's arm, his heart clenching as he spoke the truth, "No."


	19. Chapter 19

**(Thanks for waiting all. Song is "Battle Cry" by Claire Guerreso. Enjoy!))**

Varys closed his eyes as he stepped back from the table and took in a deep breath, accepting Jon's words.

"I'm _both_ ," Jon suddenly said softly, his eyes trained on his father's face and Varys' eyes suddenly snapped open

"What did you say?" he asked, his eyes widening in sudden hope

"I'm both," Jon said, his voice still soft, "Fire and ice…just like the Night's King wrote…just like Sam said the oracle predicted generations ago in the volumes he studied at the Citadel—Targaryens and Starks—fire and ice. I'm not _just_ a Targaryen…I'm not _just_ a Stark…though, I wish it was that simple," he took in a steadying breath, "I'm _both..._ and I suppose I'll have to live with it...just as I'll have to live with the fact that I was born out of a union that once nearly destroyed the Seven Kingdoms…"

He turned and looked over his shoulder to Varys, his eyes tortured, "How _do_ I live with _that_? How do I live as a Targaryen, when all I've _ever_ wanted was to be a Stark? When I've declared myself a Stark...a man of the North and _they_ made me _their_ King."

"Very few men have been honored with _two_ crowns," Varys said

Jon stopped and took another breath, "Well, I don't _want it..._ The Seven Kingdoms. All I ever wanted, growing up as a bastard at Winterfell, was what my father had…"

Varys closed his eyes and smiled, "That is why it _has to be you_ , Jon. don't you see? The realm needs someone like that to lead them."

Jon closed his own eyes as he turned back to his father's body, ignoring Varys' words, "Now, I have _two_ fathers and _two_ legacies…and it turns out they were both tortured men in their own rights—with secrets of their own that they couldn't confide in anyone—"

"They also had two very important things in common, My Lord," Varys interjected, his eyes opening, wanting to help in some way, "They were _both_ men of honor…and they both loved you so very much and believed that you would do _great things_ in this life, Jon…as do I."

Varys took a step forward, "I know it's hard to grasp. Two kingdoms...two fathers...two families...two seemingly conflicting legacies. But, if you haven't figured it out before...you _could_ have _both."_

Jon shook his head in disbelief, "And what if I don't _want_ to be both? What if it tears me asunder to even try?" What if I want to walk my own path?"

"Sometimes, that's not for us to decide," Vary counseled, his voice softening, "Sometimes we do what we must for duty, for honor, for family…You know that more than most, My Lord. Your adopted father, Ned Stark's words have rung true. 'Winter is Coming' and you are accepting that challenge as you were meant to. How is accepting the Iron Throne any different? Please...I _beg you_ to help us. To reconsider your Aunt's offer."

Jon scoffed and Varys sighed

"I didn't know Ned Stark very well, My Lord. But, I admired him. And looking back, in retrospect, I now believe that everything he did—from his accepting the assignment as Hand of the King to his betrayal of Robert Baratheon, a man he considered a friend once,` and the denunciation of his children, was to keep a promise he made to your late mother…to _protect_ what he knew deep down to be _your_ birthright…a path he knew you were someday destined to walk. And that path leads to the Iron Throne."

There was another heavy silence between them.

"'Lord Snow...you'll be fighting their battles forever'" Jon whispered, remembering Ser Alister Thorne's last words to him. They were, at the time, meant to refer to the wildlings, but they seemed oddly fitting now.

Jon smirked sadly, then rested his right hand on Jaqen H'ghar's bare chest over his father's heart, seemingly speaking to the dead man, "Tell me, will the world end in fire? Or in ice? I don't want to be the chosen _one,_ but it seems _I am..._ and everyone seemed to see something in me, something _unique and different_ right from the beginning...all my life - my father, Uncle Benjen, Robb, Jeor Mormont, Mance Rader, Tormand, Ser Davos, The Red Woman, even Tyrion Lannister...now, two advisers from King's Landing, an aunt I never met, and _you._...they all seemed to know what I didn't...And, it turns out that I'm the one that has to live with it's burden."

There was a long silence before Jon took one last long look at his father's face, inhaling a sharp breath as he pulled back his hand and swiftly turned on his heel, his face determined as he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, Longclaw, hanging at his side and walked stealthily past Varys toward the tower door.

"Well, there's only _one_ way to find out for sure…" Jon said to himself

# # # # # # # # #

Sansa smiled as she pulled her right hand, that held a cold cloth to the forehead of Ser Jorah Mormont, away as the old knight took his first solid breath in hours and his eyes fluttered opened.

Immediately, there was a rattling of chains and the Maester appeared out of seemingly nowhere, checking the bandages around Ser Jorah's bare chest then placing his own hand on the man's tan skin.

"His fever has broken. No infection," he smiled to Sansa, "He _will_ make it."

As Jorah came to and became more and more aware of his surroundings, his blue eyes focused on Sansa sitting next to him.

"Lyanna?" he whispered, trying to lift himself from the pillows under him, but Sansa stood and placed a hand on Jorah's bare shoulder to gently hold him down

"She's _fine_ …" Sansa assured him, then looked to Maester Garrod and nodded, "Maester?"

The old man smirked and nodded back then rounded the end of the bed and left the room.

"The King?" Ser Jorah asked next, almost in a hesitant whisper

"He's alive and well, Thank the Gods…" Sansa replied, the relief visible in her face then she said, "Would you like some water, Ser Jorah?"

The man shook his head, averting his gaze.

There was long silence between them before Jorah turned in her direction and swallowed.

"Forgive me, My Lady," he said softly, his voice cracking

" _Forgive you?"_ Sansa replied, confused, leaning forward, "Ser Jorah—"

"I should have followed you…come to your husband's defense… I swore an oath to my Kahleesi to defend her blood, to protect him and show him the way—"

"Jorah," Sansa said, quickly and gently placing a hand on his arm to stop him, "You have nothing to ask forgiveness for," then her eyes softened and welled with tears, "I _know_ what you did…and _why_ you did it."

She looked down to his chest as a tear streamed down her cheek from her left eye.

"The Knights of the Vale would have followed me, including Lord Baelish—once he killed Ghost…" Sansa said, her eyes still focused on Jorah's wounds, "But, you blocked the way…..you got free...you held them off…"

Jorah opened his mouth to speak, but Sansa lifted her eyes to him, "I had _every_ confidence you would have followed me Ser Jorah, except they tried to get to Lyanna, didn't they?"

Jorah reluctantly nodded, "I couldn't let them hurt you...but, I couldn't _leave her_ …" then he whispered, "I lost focus…"

"They found you outside her door when it was over…three stab wounds…but you had held your ground," Sansa finished, closing her eyes as she wiped the tear from her cheek.

When she opened her eyes she met Ser Jorah's in awe, "You killed _fifteen_ men, Ser Jorah, and never let _one man_ unbolt that door to reach Lyanna or make it past you to follow me…"

Jorah's face went solemn and they shared a meaningful look for a moment.

"I couldn't let them take her…" Jorah whispered, tears threatening his own eyes, "I'm sorry. She's all the family I have left."

"Family loyalty is nothing to be ashamed of," Sansa smiled kindly then said, You know, someone once told me that the men of Bear Island fought with the strength and ferocity of ten southerners. I suppose, you have proven the legend true."

Jorah smirked, somewhat embarrassed

" _Thank you_ , Ser Jorah…" Sansa said, her face growing more solemn, " _Truly_ …For protecting us _both._ "

Jorah closed his eyes and bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Suddenly, the door to the chambers opened again and Maester Garrod returned, only this time he stepped aside and Lady Lyanna Mormont rushed into the room, her dark eyes fixing immediately on the bed.

 _ **There's a fire raging on inside under my skin….**_

"Jorah!" she cried in relief and happiness

 _ **Hear the glass as it shatters,**_

 _ **Yeah, it's breaking….**_

Jorah's face immediately crumbled with emotion at seeing her and Sansa stepped back to let Lyanna by, the younger girl promptly throwing herself on her cousin and embracing him tightly around the neck, both of them ignoring the pain that it seemed to cause the old knight.

 _ **Like my bones, but not my soul,**_

 _ **No, I'm not the one who's gonna be fading ….**_

# # # # # #

 _ **There must be a better place away for me…**_

Sansa closed the door to Jorah's room softly behind her as she stepped out in to the hallway then stopped dead in her tracks when she turned to head back to her chambers and came face to face with three Winterfell guards- a large ebony colored man with a stoic face, a bald man and a young, blonde man-blocking her path.

 _ **No, I won't give up…**_

Before Sansa could open her mouth to speak, the blonde man stepped forward and, placing a swift hand to where the right side of his face met his chin, pulled back the face of a man to reveal her younger sister.

" _Arya!_ " Sansa gasped and her face crumbled in a mixture of shock, relief and happiness

 _ **I'll will die searching for a brighter sun,**_

 _ **A bigger sky,**_

 _ **A better place to live this life….**_

Arya smiled, tears filling her eyes as she rushed forward and into her sister's arms.

# # # # # # #

 _ **I'm fighting…**_

Jon's boots fell heavy and loud as he hurried down the stone steps of the Maester's tower and when he hit the bottom, proceeded down the next hall and up the stairs to the outer wall ramparts, servants and soldiers stopping and bowing to him as he passed.

 _ **I'm fighting…**_

Jon kept his face stoic, focused and placid, as he continued at a steady pace towardthe Great Hall, Ser Davos coming to his feet as he saw Jon approaching. He had been sitting and conversing with some of the Lords of the Northern houses and Maester Garrod.

' _ **Till I win this war…**_

But, as he saw his Lord and King approaching, Davos suddenly knew something about Jon was off.

' _ **Till I will this war…**_

"My Lord?" Davos asked, stepping forward and reaching out a hand toward Jon, but it barely brushed his King's shoulder as Jon walked quickly past him, the other Lords, the Maester and the entrance to the Great Hall as if he hadn't even seen them in his path.

 _ **And I'm fighting….**_

Jon ignored the voices of the men calling to him and following him as he continued his steady walking pace down the stone steps and out of the Great Keep and into the Winterfell courtyard.

 _ **Hear my battle cry!**_

As Davos and the other Lords followed, confused, Jon walked with purpose, weaving through the early morning crowd of people on the castle grounds as he proceeded toward the raised Hunter's Gate and the Wolfswood beyond.

 _ **Oh, Hear my battle cry!**_

When Jon finally passed under the gate, it was almost as if on cue that a strong wind rose up from the Wolfswood and Rhaegal appeared, flapping his wings to keep himself steady above the trees.

 _ **Oh, Hear my battle cry!**_

Jon looked in his direction and Rhaegal immediately dove and glided over, landing with a small tremble of the earth in front of Jon, much to the amazement and outcry of the Lords now standing back inside the gate.

 _ **I get lost in my dreams when I fall asleep…**_

Jon took in a breath, then smirked as Rhaegal seemed to know his thoughts and flattened his right wing out for his master.

 _ **Because that's that the only way out of this misery,**_

 _ **Lift my voice up high to the wind and the wild to be free,**_

Without hesitation, Jon walked forward and mounted the dragon's wing, using it as a walkway to a place on the great creature's back just behind his neck.

 _ **Yeah, come away from the line….**_

 _ **I'm fighting…**_

When Jon was situated, Rhaegal eyed the men still standing behind Winterfell's gate

 _ **I'm fighting….**_

Retracting his wing to his side again and with a roar toward Jon's companions and a shake of his neck, Rhaegal shifted his weight and shuttered his bronze colored wings.

' _ **Till I win this war…**_

Jon leaned forward and ran a steady hand down the side of Rhaegal's neck, over the faded green scales and closed his eyes, calming the beast.

' _ **Till I will this war….**_

Seeming to let a spirit possess him, he opened his mouth, sat back and heard the Valyrian command come out of his mouth in a voice that didn't sound like his own...

 _ **And I'm fighting….**_

"Sōvēs…" Jon said in a steady, clear tone and Rhaegal let out another roar.

 _ **Hear my battle cry!**_

Then, with Jon holding tightly to his back ridges, the dragon immediately took off running, his wings spreading and allowing them to take flight and soar up toward the afternoon sun.

"Seven Hells…he's figured it out..." Davos whispered with a small smile of realization, holding a hand up to shield his eyes as he watched Jon and Rhaegal fly around toward the Wolfswood, skimming the trees and sending a strong breeze toward the castle walls where it nearly knocked five guards on the ramparts off their feet.

Suddenly, Lord Davos lowered his hand and turned to Maester Garrod who, along with the other Lords of the North watched with shock and awe as their King rode over Winterfell on the back of a great dragon.

 _ **I'm fighting…**_

"Well, Maester Garrod," Davos said, "May the Gods strike me down if I'm wrong, but I _think_ that perhaps Eamonn Targaryen is going to ride his dragon to Castle Black so Jon Stark can meet with the Night's King."

 _ **I'm fighting ….**_

"Gods help him..." The Maester whispered

# # # # # # # # #

' _ **Till I win this war…**_

Hearing a dragon's roar, Varys folded his arms under his robes as he walked over to the window of the Maester tower just as Rhaegal's shadow flew over the castle.

' _ **Till I will this war….**_

Varys then looked back over his shoulder toward the body on the stone table—the man who was once Jaqen H'ghar, but died as Rhaegar Targaryen, and his eyes softened in reverence.

 _ **I'm fighting….**_

Varys then turned his eyes back toward the window, a smile of satisfaction crossing his face as he watched Rhaegal fly over the North Gate of Winterfell, past the Broken Tower, then veer north with Jon on his back.

 _ **Hear my battle cry!**_


	20. Chapter 20

Sansa still had Arya by the hand when she pushed open the door to the Maester's tower, expecting to find her husband there.

"Jon?" she called, then her eyes widened as she looked around the empty room before falling on Lord Varys as he turned back from the tower window to face her.

"I'm afraid your husband has left, My Lady…" Varys said in a kind, matter of fact tone

" _What?_ " Sansa started, seemingly confused, "I don't understand. Where has he gone? How—"

Suddenly, she felt Arya's hand release from hers and she quickly abandoned the conversation and followed her sister back out through the chamber door and into the hall before Varys could respond.

But, he took his sudden abandonment in stride.

"Well…you see, My Lady…he left Winterfell on _a dragon_ …" Varys quipped with a smirk in a low voice and then turned back to the tower window with a smile.

# # # # # # # #

Arya took in a breath as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall.

"Arya?" Sansa asked, her eyes sympathetic as she approached

"I'm sorry…" Arya whispered, "I…I just couldn't be in there with _him_ …"

Sansa closed her eyes and moved forward, taking her sister into an embrace.

From the abridged version Arya had told her about her travels and her time with the Faceless Men of Bravos and the man she knew as Jaqen H'ghar, she knew seeing him laid out on a table like that had to be hard.

Arya had come across the three other Faceless Men near River Run as she was making her way home to Winterfell… that was when she learned the truth about Jaqen H'ghar from the men also making their way North, apparently at Jaqen's written request, to Winterfell.

She decided to assist them as a final tribute to her former teacher.

Sansa sighed as she pulled back after a few long moments and stroked Arya's cheek.

"Let's get you a bath, some fresh clothes, and some food while we wait for Jon to return …what do you say?" Sansa said, trying to give a reassuring smile, then scrunched her nose, "That guard's uniform _cannot_ be comfortable."

"Not bad…" Arya quipped with a shrug, "Better than a dress."

Sansa smiled and rolled her eyes as she turned and steered her sister toward the stone stairway down from the Maester's tower, "Of course, you _would_ say that!"

Suddenly, Arya stopped.

"Sansa…" she said softly, "Knowing what I know now…about who Jaqen _truly_ was…his words to me when we met and his kindness…"

She trailed off for a moment as Sansa turned to face her with curious eyes, then finished, "I'm thinking there may have been _more_ to him—to his story, I mean, than we know…What if _he_ was in the game too, somehow?"

# # # # # # # # # #

 _ **Kings Landing, Three Years Earlier….**_

 _Lord Eddard Stark shifted against the stone wall, the water from that morning's rain could still be heard falling between the dungeon walls, attributing to the hot and damp conditions below the Red Keep._

 _Ned had just closed his eyes and laid his head back against the stones, resolved to get some sleep despite the constant dripping sounds, the pain of hunger and thirst and the discomfort of his legs, one of them still gravely injured, and his hands in irons._

 _Suddenly, there were quiet footsteps and Ned opened his eyes to see a ladle of clean water before him and a small half loaf of fresh bread on his right knee._

 _He lifted his weary eyes, "Varys? Not that I'm not grateful…. but I have nothing more to say to you—"_

" _A man is not Varys…." a familiar voice suddenly spoke in the darkness_

 _Ned's eyes widened….It was a voice he knew from the past._

 _A voice he hadn't heard in more than twenty years._

 _Soon an arm holding the ladle became visible and then a male, muscular figure in vagabond clothing and then, from the shadows under the torchlight above them, a face._

 _It had been decades and the face was older now and the hair accompanying it had been dyed, but otherwise it was unchanged –the eyes upon it still a rare silvery blue not found in the Seven Kingdoms... except among the Targaryens._

" _Rhaegar…." Ned whispered in disbelief, his eyes narrowing "Are—are you a ghost?"_

 _Jaqen H'ghar smiled and shook his head, "A man is not a ghost, Eddard Stark."_

 _He then signaled toward the water with his eyes and Ned leaned forward with a grimace of discomfort and took a long drink._

 _When he was satiated, he sat back again and the ladle disappeared, but he kept his eyes on Jaqen, his mind racing._

" _How—"_

" _A long story," Jaqen interjected, "For another time…."_

" _And you are now a 'Faceless Man'?" Ned whispered, remembering the rhetoric with which Rhaegar had first referred to himself, "So you are here in Kings Landing to kill for the Many Faced God? And wearing your true face? How did you even make it into the square?"_

 _Jaqen smirked at so many questions, then answered them, "It has been decades. Very few still live that have seen a man's true face. Besides, people only see what they want to see…it's all just an illusion…especially, when a man serves the Many Faced God."_

" _Of all the things you could have done after Robert 'killed' you…." Ned scoffed_

" _It gives a man….purpose," Jaqen replied congenially_

 _Ned scoffed, but this time it came out as a bit of a laugh, "Purpose? Well, I suppose that is what we all truly want in this life. I don't know about my life, but I hope my death serves a purpose—"_

" _The only purpose it will serve is more war and more death. Let a man help you," Jaqen said, but Ned immediately shook his head, looking up to meet Jaqen's eyes_

" _If it is the will of the Gods that I am spared…so be it. But, I'm not afraid to die."_

 _Jaqen lowered his head sadly_

" _My life is of no value…not to me," Ned continued, looking down to the irons on his wrists_

 _There was a long silence before Ned looked up again and studied Jaqen, then spoke once more.  
_

" _Jon. Jon is why you are here?" Ned whispered, a small smile crossing his face as he leaned his head back against the wall wearily  
_

 _Jaqen's face stayed stoic, "It is truth you speak. A man heard rumors of travelers from the North…A man used an opportunity the Many Faced God gave him and came to Kings Landing...A man only wished to look upon his blood's face. It is weakness on the man's part, but—"_

" _No, it isn't," Ned interjected then gave Jaqen a reassuring look, "He did not come with me to Kings Landing. He remains in the North. He's safe."_

 _Jaqen closed his eyes in relief and then nodded in acknowledgement_

" _He's got Lyanna's coloring," Ned suddenly said, feeling generous enough to describe Jon to the father whom he knew his nephew might never see or meet, "That's been a blessing in keeping his identity safe. But, he does resemble and act like you…in many ways…." He then smirked, "But, that restless spirit…that damn willfulness he's had since he was a boy…that is all my sister."_

 _Jaqen let out an uneven breath and closed his eyes in reverence to Ned's words, "A man has no words to—"_

" _I made a promise to my sister," Ned said, his eyes solemn, "That is all we shall speak of it. I hold no anger or ill will toward you…not anymore."_

 _Jaqen opened his eyes and the two men shared a gaze for a long time before Jaqen said, "Then you know the truth?"_

 _Ned nodded, his eyes soft, "I know the truth."_

 _After a beat, Jaqen said, straightening, "If a man cannot help the honorable Lord Stark, perhaps he could help the daughters he spoke of to Lord Varys…"_

 _Ned's eyes focused on Jaqen, "Sansa, the eldest, is being held by the Lannisters—she is to marry Joffrey. You can't help her…I'll have to rely on the slim chance that Lord Varys, and perhaps some other allies I still have at court will do so…" there was a pause, "Knowing his sadistic nature, the King will not keep his word to exile me, of that I'm sure… but perhaps that is what I buy with my death—Sansa's safety. At least for now….until the North can rally."_

 _Jaqen narrowed his eyes and Ned could see the wheels in his mind turning, "Yes, unfortunately, too many deaths in the castle means too many questions—though he possesses the skills, a man cannot risk such a task."_

" _My other daughter, though," Ned continued, swallowing, "She escaped our quarters when I was taken into custody…they have not yet been able to find her…."_

 _Jaqen cocked his head with interest, "Does a girl have a name?"_

" _Arya," Ned said softly, then coughed and the chains on his irons rattled slightly, "If you do find her, you'll find that she's just as strong and willful and brilliant as Lyanna...and she will most likely not be dressed as a girl..." then he chuckled a little, "She has more courage than sense sometimes."  
_

 _Jaqen regarded Ned's words with stoic silence then nodded, "A man will do all he can to find her. It is a promise."_

 _Ned smirked sadly, "Thank you."_

 _"The hour grows late," Jaqen suddenly said, "A man should go… before he is discovered out of his cell—"_

" _You're locked in here like the rest of us?" Ned scoffed in surprise, "How?"_

" _Thievery…" Jaqen shrugged, "It was the pettiest thing a man could think of at the time and a good escape plan from the city, no?"_

" _Well…." Ned replied honestly, "No."_

 _Jaqen smiled slightly as he placed the nearly forgotten bread on Ned Stark's knee into his hand, "You should eat something. One should not meet the God of Death on an empty stomach. A man knows this."_

 _He then met Ned's eyes steadily, "And Ned Stark dies without care. A man will speak to Yoren from the Night's Watch. A man will pledge an oath and leave the city by way of the North and a man will watch for a girl named Arya…and if he can, he will lead her to safety and much more."_

 _And with that, the two nodded in farewell to each other_

" _Rhaegar—" Ned started as Jaqen began to turn away_

" _A man is no longer Rhaegar Targaryen," Jaqen interjected, "He gave up that right a long time ago. A man is simply Jaqen H'ghar, a Lothraki criminal, at your service."_

 _Ned then watched Jaqen rise to his feet_

" _Valar Morghulis…." Ned said, his eyes conflicted with emotion_

" _Valar Dohaeris._ _" Jaqen replied, trying to keep his own face stoic_

 _Then, with a slight bow, Jaqen H'ghar disappeared into the shadows_

# # # # # # # # # # #

Jon's eyes squinted against the bitter wind as he felt the muscles of Rhaegal's back flex beneath his legs as they flew over the tundra that surrounded the King's Road heading north toward the Wall.

Soon, it was in sight...

Castle Black.

Jon leaned forward and stroked Rhaegal's neck and the dragon immediately lowered its altitude to the ground, the great beast gliding until he landed as softly as possible on the snow covered tundra floor, not far from the castle walls.

Rhaegal shook his neck and snorted out a huff of air from his nostrils, visible in the frost.

Jon took in a breath and looked around, keeping vigilant.

How could it be so quiet?

In that moment, the world on the south side of the wall seemed as cold and desolate as the world on the north side of the wall.

Suddenly, the ground shook and Rhaegal roared as something began to break through the snow and ice in front of them—skeletal and flesh torn hands, legs, and eventually heads coming up from beneath them.

Wights.

Jon's nostrils flared as he watched them rise, armed and snarling, in different stages of decay, but all with ice blue eyes and hungry mouths.

So, they were to be the welcome party…

Jon, straightened in his place on Rhaegal's back, seemingly waiting for them without hesitation or fear.

Then, closing his eyes, he let the spirit of his Valyrian ancestors possess him again.

And just as he heard the high pitched screeching of the dead approaching, Jon opened his dark chocolate eyes and commanded, "Dracarys!"

Rhaegal responded immediately, shifting on his legs and lifting his neck, then letting out a mighty roar that produced a whirlwind of fire, instantly burning the nearly sixty dead that had marched on them,

As the wights lay in piles of dust, obliterated, or still flaming on the ground, writhing and screeching, Jon slid down the side of Rhaegal's back and begun to walk forward, his hand on the hilt of Longclaw as he weaved through bodies, making toward the gate.

As he approached closer, his gaze was drawn up to the top rampart of Castle Black, just above the large keep doors.

Jon narrowed his eyes as the figures of three tall men suddenly came into view—men with skin white as snow and eyes blue as sapphires—men he knew had to be the next in command among the White Walkers legion, for they held the form of men, wore military regalia and carried forged weapons, much like the Night's King himself.

Jon took in a deep, fortifying breath, his thoughts straying to Joer Mormont, Rhaegar Targaryen, Ned Stark, Ygritte, Mance Rader and all those he had loved and lost...

Those who would have given everything they had to see him standing where he was at this moment in time.

Finally, when he exhaled, Jon called in a loud, clear voice for all to hear in the castle beyond, "My name is Jon Stark of Winterfell! And I am here to speak to your King!"


	21. Chapter 21

**((Enjoy! Song is "All Things Big and Small" by Sara Swenson))**

"He did _what?!"_ Sansa cried, her blue eyes flooding with panic, as she shook her head and then walked away from Ser Davos and sat down on the edge of her bed, her initial panic giving away to shock, "No…" she whispered

"Apparently, some of the Lords and banner men that witnessed his departure immediately went after him on horseback, My Lady…" Ser Davos replied, then sighed and sad down on the bed next to Sansa, "But a horse cannot run as fast as a dragon can fly. He may be at the gates of Castle Black already."

Sansa closed her eyes, "I suppose we'll just have to trust that he knows what he's doing…", though the crack in her voice betrayed her confidence and reflected her worry for her husband.

"Well," Davos said, trying to reassure her, "Though I wasn't thrilled with the prospect of him going to Castle Black at all in the first place, I've got to admire his _unfathomable_ courage in doing so…it may just save us all in the end."

Sansa opened her eyes and turned toward Ser Davos, giving him a small smile

"His heart is a well that never seems to run dry, isn't it?" Ser Davos asked, cocking an eyebrow

Sansa shook her head, the smile growing a little bigger

"Well, we know that he at least has three things in his favor," Davos said, taking in a steadying breath and holding up a gloved hand as he listed them off one by one with his fingers, "He was invited by Night's King himself, he holds a sword of forged Valyrian steel, and…I can't believe I'm saying this," he chuckled, "He _has a dragon_."

"That's still so surreal…." Sansa whispered, "And it just makes the Targaryen part of him _real,_ now…"

"Well, Varys seemed quite pleased," Davos replied with a raised brow, lowering his hand, "I think he takes this as an excellent sign that Jon might actually embrace his Targaryen legacy."

Sansa closed her eyes again, but said nothing on the subject.

In her mind she could hear her mother's words _"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."_

Davos immediately steered the conversation away from the prospect of the Iron Throne, "My Lady, with your permission, the interrogations of the Knights of the Vale left behind from Lord Baelish's coup has borne fruit. We know where Lord Baelish is heading…I've already sent men to block off his escape route."

Sansa opened her eyes and took in a breath as she waited for Davos to ask the question she almost dreaded and relished at the same time.

"If— _when_ we find Lord Baelish, My Lady, what action would you like us to take against him?" Davos finally asked

"Why do you ask this of me?" Sansa asked, lifting her eyes

"You're the Lady of Winterfell…" Davos replied then took in a breath, "And, though I know what my King's order would be, I defer to you My Lady in this matter, out of respect…" he gave Sansa a sideways glance, "I know your relationship with Lord Baelish is a complicated one."

"Do we know why he turned?" Sansa whispered, looking ahead, trying to keep her face stoic

"Why does any man turn, My Lady?" Davos smirked sadly, then looked down to his hands, "Lord Varys was right. One of the knights under Lord Baelish's command told us that the original plan was to stay at Winterfell, until such time as you decided you no longer needed them. But, for Baelish, learning of Daenerys Taragaryen's death changed everything—it was an opportunity he couldn't refuse. Baelish knew the Lords and banner men under your husband's command wouldn't be fit to resist after the night's celebrations and there would be minimal guard. He sent five men to kill Jon…" Davos continued, "The others he used to hold off anyone who might suspect something and become 'troublesome'. His men were told to capture, but not harm you. He intended on taking you with him when he left the North."

"I already know that, Ser Davos…" Sansa whispered after a moment's pause, nervously rubbing the lower part of her forearm where Lord Baelish had tried to grab for her, then straightened and said, "I need some time to consider this matter. I will send word to you as soon as I decide."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and then it slowly opened to reveal Arya, dressed in fresh clothes with Lady Brianne towering behind her.

Davos took that as his signal to remove himself.

He immediately stood and bowed to Sansa, "Of course, My Lady."

Then nodding to Brianne and Arya moved past them through the threshold.

After he left, Arya's eyes immediately turned on Sansa, worried, "What's happening? Where is Jon?"

# # # # # # # #

Jon patiently waited outside Castle Black, his breath frosting in the air as a light snow began to fall.

Jon smirked as he held out his hand and watched the small bits of ice melt on his palm.

After death, he had learned one thing….

Never to take such small moments for granted.

Suddenly, there was a commotion on the ramparts and Jon lowered his hand as he watched the three White Walker commanders who had been watching him since he first arrived, part and the Night's King appeared.

Jon straightened and waited for him to make the first move.

After a few moments, when the Night's King didn't take the initiative, Jon took in a shallow breath and turned to Rhaegal and nodded.

Rhaegal let out a roar toward Castle Black, then brought up a whirlwind of snow with his wings as he lifted off the ground and flew away.

Jon turned back toward the castle and, after taking in another reassuring breath to steel himself, took Longclaw by the hilt and unsheathed it.

Then, in one, long slow deliberate movement, he held it out for the Night's King to see, before laying it at his feet and taking a step back.

Jon lifted his eyes to the ramparts again, trying to keep his face emotionless and stoic.

He didn't have to wait long for a response.

Jon soon watched in awe as the Night's King immediately walked forward and leaped down from the rampart, effortlessly landing on the ground below, light on his feet, like a predator.

Jon blinked, and within seconds, the Night's King was standing in front of him, his ice blue eyes meeting Jon's brown.

The Night's King looked down to the sword, then up at Jon and his eyes narrowed.

Suddenly, Jon heard a voice inside his head.

"So...we finally meet again…."

Jon closed his eyes as he felt a buzzing noise suddenly overwhelm his senses.

He turned his head, trying to get his bearings and finally when the buzzing stopped and he opened his eyes again, Jon no longer saw the Night's King before him, but, a tall man with short red hair and bright blue eyes, dressed in leather day armor.

Taryn Stark—just as Sansa had described him from her dream.

The location had changed too and Jon gasped as he looked around, realizing it was the Wolfswood, outside of Winterfell.

Jon turned on his heel and his eyes widened when he saw the half-built castle that would later become the family home in the distance.

Jon smirked when he realized he was in a different time all together...the building of Winterfell.

It would have been the last years Taryn would have been human.

"This-this is _your_ creation…." Jon whispered as he turned back to the man who was now casually leaning against one of the wierwood trees, " _You're_ doing this?"

"I cannot speak to you in the form I now possess…" Taryn said, "A curse of my kind. This is the only way, I'm afraid."

"What _are_ you?" Jon suddenly whispered, taken aback, "Even if you're the first of your kind…no White Walker can do what you can do."

Taryn smirked, "It's true. Before I was reborn, I was _different._ I was a powerful warlock and a warg..."

"I found your brother's journals in the crypts at Winterfell…." Jon said softly, "I read about your fate."

"Did you?" Taryn replied, the smirk disappearing as he stepped away from the tree and Jon watched him walked forward and sit down on a boulder near the pond.

Taryn was silent for a long time before he said, "Is your brother, Bran safe?"

Jon was taken aback.

"I—I don't know…" Jon answered honestly

"I pray he is. He escaped our attack, but killing him was never my intention."

Taryn looked at Jon for a long moment, then explained, "When he lost his legs, Bran gained his sight… He's a warg—it can skip generations…." then he smirked, "Strong, stubborn boy…and _very protective_ of his family. So much so, that it's been hard to break through to you. He interceded in my trying to contact Sansa. Still, I owe him a debt. His weakness allowed me to achieve my personal vengeance and kill what was left of the Children of the Forrest and the Three Eyed Raven—"

"The Three Eyed Raven?" Jon scoffed, "I thought that was a Northern myth."

Taryn shook his head, "My father thought so too…never even knew that the man who was to become the Three Eyed Raven was standing at his side for years, working with the enemy _against_ him…."

"Goefred, the White Crow," Jon whispered, remembering the story from Brandon Stark's journal

"Do you know why he was called 'The White Crow'?" Taryn asked

Jon shook his head slightly

"He was a Targaryen," Taryn replied, "A soldier from old Valyria. He, too, was powerful. He lost an eye in a great battle and was said to have gained gift of foresight because of it. In Valyria, it was said crows were able to see the future...and he was blonde like his kinsman...therefore, he got his name."

Jon gasped, "Gods…"

"The night that he turned on me, betrayed my family, and handed me over to the Children of the Forest, he received the reward he was promised— _more power_ —the power to see _everything_ …the present, the past and the future… _all of it_. But, nature always demands balance—thus, there was a price for such power and the Three Eyed Raven was bound to a living tree, sacred to the earth, and shielded from my sight, sworn to help mankind against the very thing he helped to create."

There was a long silence before Taryn said, "Your brother is the Three Eyed Raven now….Gods help him."

"What?" Jon whispered, narrowing his eyes

"The old fool had to give the sight to _someone,"_ Taryn replied, picking blades of grass sharply from the ground, "If he didn't, the scales—the balance of nature—would tip. No doubt, he probably thought it an act of redemption to give it to a Stark. But, I think it's rather _ironic_ …and of course, he had no idea that that same boy would be his downfall…"

"So Bran now has the gift of sight?"

Taryn took in a breath and nodded, throwing the blades of grass in the pond, continuing, "After Bran's accident, his powers were awakened. I sensed them and used the blood link between his power and mine to first try to reach your father, Eddard Stark in his dreams, months before his death. But, he didn't heed my words…he only thought it a nightmare…."

"That's why you tried Sansa..." Jon suddenly said, "But, why could you reach out to her and not me?"

"Targaryen blood is strong in you. There was no connection. With Sansa, it was easier. But, as I said before, Bran is growing in power. He sensed the connection I was trying to make and he broke it off and woke her up before I could tell her my purpose—"

"And what is your _'purpose'_ exactly?" Jon scoffed, his eyes on fire, "I'd really like to hear the answer to that."

Taryn cocked his head, then said, "You have many questions, Jon Stark of Winterfell. Unfortunately, we don't have much time. I don't like questions, but as you are my kin, you may ask three directly."

Jon took in a deep breath and gathered his thoughts quickly

"How did you and the other White Walkers make it past the ancient shield runes carved into the Wall?"

"The runes are a myth," Taryn replied dismissively

"Why, after a thousand years under the ice, have your armies suddenly risen up, grown in number, and now march on the realm of men?"

Taryn's eyes narrowed and he smirked when he answered, "Aerys Targaryen,"

" _What?"_ Jon asked, taken aback, not expecting the words he heard, "The Mad King?"

"Aerys Targaryen awoke me from the ice…." Taryn said, "After I fell at the hand of my nephew a thousand years ago, there was nothing….. only…. _darkness._ Then, I heard his words in the dark and they commanded me to rise and so I rose, to march south and take vengeance on the world of men."

" _How?"_ Jon asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his mind reeling

"That I cannot tell you, but, though he died, his command still holds. And for two decades, I have obeyed his command. I am bound to. We grow in number every year and we continue to march south to destroy the realms of men as we were originally bid to do so."

"Seven Hells…." Jon said, stunned at the revelation

"Your third question?" Taryn prompted, now standing from the rock

Jon blinked then closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get his bearings, and when he opened them, he looked directly at Taryn and asked, "Why—why have you been trying to reach out to Starks?"

"Because, I need help," Taryn admitted, his face softening, "And I hoped that by revealing myself as a Stark, a Stark might help me."

"Help you do...what, exactly?" Jon asked

"End the war, _"_ Taryn replied, starting to close the distance between them

Jon's face fell in shock and he opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words to respond

In the silence between them, Taryn stepped closer, his face crumbling slightly, "I want to be at peace, Jon Stark of Winterfell. I want to rest forever beside my family. I want to be _free.._.."

Jon's eyes softened as Taryn continued, "Therefore, I want you to listen very carefully to my words, I want you _heed them_ …and then, I want you use the knowledge I give you to break this curse on the Seven Kingdoms….and kill me."

 _ **Hush now,  
Don't break the silence….**_

Jon took a step closer and, trying to keep his own face from crumbling, nodded, "I'm listening."

# # # # # # # # # #

 _ **Hold these seconds,  
Near your heart like a locket…**_

Peter Baelish, smirked, uncertainly as the Winterfell banner man unlocked the chains that had been around his wrists and ankles for only a few hours.

"You may go, Lord Baelish," another soldier said bitterly as he handed Littlefinger a sealed envelope with the Stark seal marking the back.

 _ **All is right,  
Well and good….**_

Baelish's eyes softened as he broke the seal and opened the envelope.

He smirked as he pulled a hand written note from Sansa out of the envelope, it's only words scrawled in her elegant hand– " _And the game continues..."_

 _ **All things big and small….**_

Then, feeling something else in the bottom of the envelope, Baelish turned it over and the insignia ring he had given Sansa the night they had spoken in her chambers fell out onto his palm.

 _ **Remain just as they should….**_

Lord Baelish's face fell and he closed his eyes in reverence, closing his fist around the ring.

 _ **Hush now….**_

 _ **# # # # # # # #**_

Jon took in a deep breath as a force seemed to pull him back to reality and he suddenly found himself in the snow covered tundra outside Castle Black once more, face to face with the Night's King.

 _ **Hush now,  
Don't break the silence…**_

After a few long seconds, the Night's King leaned forward and picked up Longclaw from the ground and turned it toward Jon, handing it to him hilt first.

 _ **Hold these seconds  
Near your heart like a locket….**_

His mind still reeling from their conversation inside his head, when the Night's King spoke to him through his inner self—Taryn Stark, Jon was slow to take the sword.

 _ **All is right,  
Well and good….**_

But, when he did, the Night's King nodded to him, his face placid and unreadable.

 _ **All things big and small,**_

 _ **Remain just as they should….**_

Then, he abruptly turned on his heel and stealthily walked back toward Castle Black, leaving Jon standing the now heavier falling snow.

 _ **All things big and small,**_

 _ **Remain just as they should….**_

Jon smirked as he sheathed Longclaw and blinked through the snowflakes on his eyelashes as he watched the Night's King disappear.

 _ **All things big and small,**_

 _ **Remain just as they should….**_

 _ **Hush now.**_


	22. Chapter 22

**((Thanks all for returning. The song is "My Eyes" by the Lumineers...Enjoy!))**

Jon looked casually over his shoulder toward Castle Black as he stealthily walked through the falling snow toward the woods to the west of the King's Road where he knew that Rhaegal was probably hunting or waiting for him to return.

After taking in a breath to steady himself, Jon placed his hand on the hilt of Longclaw sheathed at his side as he looked forward again and moved through the thick brush as he breached the border of the forest.

It was as Jon took a long stride over a fallen tree trunk and brushed a snow covered tree limb out of his way, that he felt his skin smart under the sleeve of his left arm and he winced.

When he reached the other side, Jon stepped aside of a snow bank and when he gained his footing, looked down to his leather jacket sleeve, grimacing again at the burning sensation that ensued when he pulled it back.

Jon's eyes widened when he saw the sigil of House Stark, a direwolf head, burned into his forearm just above his left wrist.

He quickly glanced again over his shoulder toward Castle Black, then brought his gaze back to his brand, narrowing his eyes.

It had to be the Night's King's doing….

But, he hadn't touched Jon.

His mind still reeling, Jon leaned down and packed a small amount of snow in his right hand, but when he stood again and applied it to his left arm to sooth the burning brand, he saw a flash of light behind his eyes that made him stumble back a little in shock.

After moment, Jon regained his footing and his composure, then heard Taryn's Stark's voice in the back of his mind say, "The moment you took valyrian steel from my hands, you became bound to me...as I am bound to you. Because, you are my blood and came willingly and are giving your help unselfishly, I offer you a gift. Relax and open your mind to me."

"Why?"

"So I can show you your past..." Taryn said, "And a glimpse of your future...the destiny that is meant for you."

Then, Jon suddenly felt his eyes close as images began to run through his head like a blurred, fast paced movie…

 _ **Oh, the devil's inside…**_

Rhaegar Targaryen seeing Lyanna Stark for the first time across the crowded Great Hall at Winterfell…

Rhaegar and Lyanna sharing their first kiss under a moonlit sky in King's Landing….

 _ **You opened the door…**_

Rhaegar riding toward Lyanna on his stallion in his full jousting armor and laying the crown of winter roses in her lap….

 _ **You gave him a ride…**_

Rhaegar staring deep into Lyanna's eyes, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she closed her eyes at his touch...

 _ **Too young to know…**_

Lyanna sitting in a chair in the Tower of Joy, watching a smile spread across Rhaegar's face as, dressed in his battle armor, he felt the kick of their child against his hand resting over her stomach.

 _ **Too old to admit…**_

A young Ned Stark arriving at his dying sister's bedside, taking her hand in his and trying to keep his composure…

" _You have to protect him..."_ Jon heard her words, the first time he had ever heard her mother's voice, _"Promise me, Ned…."_

 _ **That you couldn't see how it ends….**_

Then, an infant being handed to Ned in a mass of blankets as a tear fell from his eye and Lyanna took her last breaths….

" _Promise me, Ned…."_ she whispers again, _"Promise me."_

 _ **What did you do to my eyes?**_

Rhaegar Targaryen's face falling as he arrives at the Tower of Joy and, running past the bodies of the soldiers he had left to protect her and bounding up the stone steps, bursts through the door to find no sign of Lyanna or their child….

Ned smirking as he gently lays a sleeping infant Jon in a cradle in his rooms at Winterfell, standing over the boy for a long moment, watching his nephew sleep…

 _ **What did you sing to our only child?**_

Ned lifting a toddler Jon up to look into the crib to see a newborn Sansa…

Four year-old Jon, unconscious, lying in bed and dying of pox, Ned by his side, holding his small hand in the candlelight as Catelyn Stark enters the room and, leaning forward, hangs a Mother's Protection totem over the corner of Jon's bed…

 _ **Promised it all, but you lied….**_

Ned riding to the edge of the Wolfswood with six year-old Jon sitting in the saddle in front of him, looking out on the breathtaking scene of nature before them…

Ned giving him a sad smile that day on the King's road before they parted ways and he joined the Night's Watch….

 _ **You better slow down baby, soon…**_

Dancing with Sansa at the Mickelmus Feast when he saved her from Joffrey Baratheon, their eyes meeting as they circled each other….

Catelyn's steely, disapproving eyes gazing down at him from the ramparts of Winterfell….

Sword fighting practice with Robb when they were teenagers and Robb making a pass, missing, but hitting Jon on the bottom with the flat edge of his wooden sword as Bran and Rickon laugh ….

 _ **It's all or nothing to you….**_

Jon kissing Bran's forehead as he lay in bed paralyzed and unconscious….

Arya jumping into Jon's arms to hug him goodbye….

Jon hugging Rob in the courtyard…

" _Next time I see you, you'll be all in black…"_

 _"It was always my color."_

 **The glow** _ **of**_ **Hollywood signs….**

Uncle Benjen placing a reassuring hand on Jon's shoulder as they stood upon the wall…

Jon stepping in to protect Sam…

 _ **They sold you a bridge…**_

Commander Mormont handing Jon Longclaw and giving an approving nod….

Maester Aemon revealing his identity to Jon in the Raven tower….

 _ **They fed you a line, they fed you to lions….**_

Jon seeing Ygritte's face for the first time…

Jon stabbing Qhorin Halfhand through with his sword….

 _ **You always confused your servants for friends….**_

Standing in front of Mance Rader for the first time…

Then shooting an arrow through his heart as he burned at the stake at Castle Black…

 **But** _ **, you couldn't see how it ends…**_

Jon unrolling the parchment handed to him by Stanis Baratheon and smiling at the words _Bear Island knows no King but the King in the North whose name is Stark_.

 _ **It's all or nothing to you….**_

Jon striking Longclaw and shattering a White Walker at Craster's Keep….

Jon standing on the north side of the Wall with the wildlings, looking up to Alister Thorne, silently pleading with him to open the lower gate…

 _ **What did you do to my eyes?**_

Reuniting with Ghost at Craster's keep….

Sam and Jon laughing as they sit around a table in Jon's quarters...

Jon and his brothers celebrating as he is elected Commander of the Night's Watch...

 _ **What did you say to my only child?**_

Jon's gaze meeting the Night's King's bright blue eyes as they row away from the Battle of Hardhome…

 _ **Promised your love, but you lied….**_

Making love to Ygritte in the cave….

Kissing Ygritte on the top of the wall as the new dawn rose….

Holding Ygritte in his arms as she dies in the midst of battle at Castle Black….

 _ **You better slow down baby, soon….**_

Jon running out into the courtyard of Castle Black only to see find a sign that says TRAITOR

Laying, bleeding in the snow in the courtyard and looking up into the stars….

Then, sucking in a breath and opening his eyes as he regains life….

 _ **It's all or nothing to you…**_

Jon cutting the rope to hang the brothers of the Night's Watch who betrayed him…

Jon walking out of the courtyard, _"My watch has ended…"_

Standing on the ramparts at Castle Black and seeing Sansa standing in the courtyard, then embracing her…

Jon sitting on the horse next to her as they confronted Ramsey Bolton before the Battle of the Bastards…

Jon standing in the Great Hall as the banner men of the North declared him King….

Jon looking into Sansa's eyes as their hands are bound together and they are married…

Jon making love to her in the wood, kissing her softly and deeply as their bodies intermingle against the tree…

 _ **What did you do to my eyes?**_

Jon and Sansa standing on the ramparts of Winterfell….

" _Winter is Coming."_

" _Well, Father always promised, didn't he?"_

 _ **What did you sing to our only child?**_

Jon standing in the Winterfell crypt, looking upon the statue of his mother with soft eyes….

Rhaegar, known then as Jaqen H'ghar, reaching up and touching his son's face with a sad smile before dying…

Jon closing his eyes as he felt the wind on his face as he rode Rhaegal toward Castle Black…

 _ **Promised it all, but you lied…**_

Jon sitting on the Iron Throne, with Sansa standing on one side and Davos on the other…

Jon holding a weeping Sansa close as they stand in the crypts of Winterfell…

Bran touching Jon's arm as his eyes turn white and he wargs into him...

 _ **You better slow down baby...  
**_

Sansa handing Jon a bundle of blankets that contain a sleeping infant with a full head of dark hair…

Arya bowing to Jon and Sansa, dressed in full battle armor…

Sansa and Jon standing in front of Taryn Stark in his human form in the Wolfswood outside Winterfell as he closes his eyes and crumbles to dust, a gentle breeze blowing him away….

 _ **Soon…**_

Jon suddenly opened his eyes and gasped.


	23. Chapter 23

_((Sorry so short, ya'll. I felt this just needed its own chapter. Song is "Grace" by Rag'n Bone Man. ENJOY! :) ))_

Jon tried to keep his bearings as he moved through the forest, his mind still reeling with the images –the "gift" that the Nights King had bestowed upon him.

Suddenly, a rustling noise ahead captured his attention and he could hear the low grunting noises of Rhaegal in the distance.

Good. He wasn't far.

It was time to go home—back to Winterfell.

Jon navigated the brush before him and soon found himself walking down a dirt path toward a clearing. Keeping his eyes to the ground to avoid any missteps, he looked up when he again heard Rhaegal.

Jon narrowed his eyes and brought his hand up to shield them from the sunlight as he tried to make out a figure that he now saw next to the great dragon…

Then, as he moved closer, he slowly lowered his hand in stunning realization and slowed his steps.

It was a person.

And moreover, someone he recognized, though it had been many years since they had seen one another.

"It can't be…" Jon whispered, his face blanching in shock and surprise, "Are you _real_? Or is—is this a dream?"

Brandon Stark turned from where he had been standing, running his hand down the side of Rhaegal's neck, stroking him and eliciting purring noises from the beast.

He was older than Jon remembered and different in other ways too…

"You're—" Jon choked out, walking forward slowly, almost absentmindedly, casting his eyes down to Bran's legs—legs that he was _standing on,_ "You're—"

"I know…" Bran replied, smirking as he stepped forward and Jon continued to close the distance between them, "It's a _long_ story," then his face fell in concern, "But, Jon, you should know that it was the Night's King—he guided me to you. For what purpose, I'm not sure—but, I worry that—"

"It doesn't matter…" Jon said dismissively, still studying Bran with skepticism before he slowly reached out a hand and laid it on Bran's shoulder, a gasp of relief and joy emanating from him when he realized that Bran wasn't a vision or part of a dream.

He was _real_.

"You're _alive_. You're _here,_ " Jon whispered, fighting back tears as he clasped his brother's shoulder tighter and smiled, "And I have _so much_ to tell you."

"And I, you…." Bran replied, returning the smile as he stepped forward and embraced Jon

# # # # # # #

 _ **Said I loved you, without hesitation…**_

Sansa sat at her vanity in the room she shared with Jon, watching the flame of the candle flickering in front of her—the light she had used to write the farewell letter to Peter Baelish, her seal and paper still lying beneath its glow.

 _ **So easy for you to break my foolish heart…**_

Closing her eyes, Sansa brought her hand up to clasp her fingers around the wolf pendent Jon had given her on the eve of their wedding in reassurance.

 _ **Now I wonder if you ever speak my name….**_

Though, it pained her heart because she felt she owed a small debt and a piece of herself to Lord Baelish, she knew that she had made the right decision and honored the right loyalties to her family—to Jon, whom she loved more deeply than she ever thought she could love anyone.

 _ **Will I always be defined by my mistakes?**_

Whether it cost them the support and incurred the wrath of the Vale or not, was yet to be seen.

But, Sansa had her family and her home back. That was all that mattered at the moment.

 _ **In the eyes of a saint I'm a stranger…**_

When she opened her eyes again, she turned in her chair and looked upon the faces of her parents in the drawing Jon had found upon their return and given to her—a drawing that now had a place on the table at their bedside.

 _ **We're all trying to find our way…**_

A small smile crossed her lips as she looked upon their happy faces—the faces she knew when she was a young girl.

 _ **At the death of every darkness there's a morning….**_

She hoped that wherever their souls were now, that they were proud of her and all she had endured and the sacrifices she had made.

 _ **Though we all try, we all try….**_

Sansa turned back to her vanity and leaned forward, blowing out the candle with one, long, sure breath.

 _ **We're all one step from grace.**_

# # # # # #

 _ **I made myself believe, that there was no fight left in me...  
**_

Lord Davos smirked as he pulled the blanket at the end of Jorah Mormont's bed up and over young Lady Lyanna where she lay sleeping next to her injured uncle, her head cradled in the crook of his left shoulder and the old soldier's cheek resting on the crown of her head as his heavy breathing made his bandaged chest rise and fall steadily.

Lyanna stirred for a moment at the feeling of the blanket over her, but didn't wake.

Davos quietly stepped back, then rounded the bed and left the room, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him.

 _ **But, redemption doesn't fall down at your feet….**_

In the hallway, closing his eyes in remembrance and pain, Davos slowly brought his hand up to rest over the carved wooden stag he had once carved for Princess Shireen Baratheon that now rested permanently inside his vest over his heart. So he could carry her with him wherever he went.

 _ **In the half light, we raised a hand to my defeat…**_

# # # # # #

Arya bowed to the three other Faceless Men as she presented them with Jaqen H'ghar's folded robes in the Maester's tower.

The teenager, their leader, accepted them with solemnity and returned her bow.

 _ **And I watch the walls fall….**_

"Farewell…" he said, then added with a smirk as he cast his eyes toward his fallen brother still lying on the stone table on the far side of the room, before his eyes met Arya's as she straightened again, "Arya Stark of Winterfell."

 _ **And I rebuild them piece by piece…**_

Arya's face softened, taking in the meaning of his words, knowing that she could truly never be "No One". He knew it as well as Jaqen had.

Her destiny lay with her family now….in truth, it always had.

As the men left the room, Arya took in a deep breath and turned on her heel, walking slowly toward Jaqen's still and lifeless body.

 _ **In the eyes of a saint I'm a stranger…  
**_

Her eyes filled with tears as they fell upon the Bravosi coins covering his eyes.

 _ **We're all trying to find our way…**_

Closing her eyes to steady herself, she reached into the pocket of her vest and removed the coin Jaqen had given her after helping her and her friends escape from Harrenhal, so that she may find him again.

 _ **At the death of every darkness there's a morning…**_

When Arya opened them, she reached forward and took gentle hold of his cold hand lying on the top of linen sheet that covered him.

With a sad smile, she placed the coin in the palm of his hand and closed his fist around it.

 _ **Though we all try….**_

"Valar dohaeris…" she whispered when she pulled back, looking over to Jaqen's placid face, peaceful in death, "Farewell, Jaqen H'ghar—a man who was no one—I know we'll see each other again, someday…"

 _ **We all try….**_

Arya then leaned forward and brought her lips to the cold skin of his left cheek.

 _ **We're all one step from grace.**_

Suddenly, a commotion outside brought Arya back to reality and she gently released Jaqen's hand and pulled back, walking quickly to the window of the Maester's tower.

She let out a breath of shock as a smile of joy crossed her face at the sight below.

# # # # # # # #

 _ **I wonder why we give up on love…**_

Arya had just reached the courtyard and raced to Sansa's side, feeling her sister's arm wrap around her as she slowed and waited as the two men in the distance dismounted Rhaegal's back outside the main gate.

 _ **When it's always within reach…**_

Soldiers, servants and banner men were now gathering around them as well to witness the sight.

 _ **You and I, we suffered through this enough….**_

Sansa and Arya's faces both crumbled as they now looked their brother, Bran, up and down as the young man, not the boy they once knew, walked—actually _walked_ —forward toward them of his own accord through the gate Winterfell.

 _ **We all try, We all try…**_

When his eyes met theirs, Arya and Sansa gave relieved smiles and Bran smiled back, now walking faster toward them.

 _ **We're all one step from grace.**_

Arya's smile broadened and she immediately took off running toward her brother, her sister close behind.

 _ **In the eyes of a saint I'm a stranger…  
**_

With a cry of joy, Arya jumped into Bran's arms and they held each other close for a long moment before she began laughing as he spun her around in circles.

 _ **We're all trying to find our way….**_

"I've missed you…" Bran whispered as he set Arya down and looked into her face as he stroked her cheek, then cast his eyes over to Sansa as his older sister came forward and reached out for him with tears streaming down her face, " _Both_ of you…"

 _ **At the death of every darkness there's a morning…**_

Jon walked through the gate slowly, watching the Stark siblings reunite ahead of him and Sansa hold Bran tight for a few long moments before reaching out a long arm and pulling Arya into a group hug as they all laughed with the relief and joy at seeing one another again. _ **  
**_

 _ **Though we all try….**_

Jon's face softened as he approached closer and Sansa's eyes suddenly lifted to him.

 _ **We all try…**_

Jon smiled as he kissed Sansa on the forehead before wrapping his arms around all of them, adding himself to the group embrace.

 _ **We're all one step from grace.**_


	24. Chapter 24

((Thanks for returning. Song is "You Never Know" by Anthem Academy))

Three days later….

Bran smiled as he leaned forward on his elbows, looking out from the ramparts of the library tower and down onto the Winterfell courtyard and the children playing Fange Flaggen in the snow—chasing each other, tagging to 'unfreeze' one another after hitting one another with hastily rolled snowballs as they tried to capture one another's 'treasure' planted in the snow.

Suddenly, he closed his eyes as he felt a presence behind him and soon opened them to see Arya out of his peripheral vision as she came to his side.

"Were we really _ever_ that young?" Bran asked her, keeping his eyes focused on the children below, joyfully playing in the snow.

Arya's eyes softened as she looked out on the children for almost too brief of a moment then leaned sideways on the wall to face her brother and answered solemnly with eyes that seemed to have seen too much of the world already, "Truthfully…I don't remember anymore."

There was a moment of silence before Bran stood up and turned toward his sister with sadness in his dark brown eyes, "Me neither."

 _ **If you ever lose your way,  
And your heart's about to break….**_

Arya gave another brief glance over the wall toward the children then smirked knowingly at Bran.

Her brother's eyes narrowed as he seemed to read her thoughts before a conspiratorial smile slowly crossed his face.

 _ **Know there's always one more day,**_

 _ **To get it right….**_

# # # # # # # # # # #

 _ **When you've gone too far and you're stumbling in the dark...**_

Sansa's eyes blinked open and she shifted under the covers, her naked body still tingling with the sensations of her husband's attention and ministrations when he had returned to the castle the previous night, almost near dawn, from meeting a messenger in the woods at the halfway point to Eastwatch.

It had been a two day journey after he had received the raven, cutting short their reunion with Arya and Bran.

Bran had still wanted to speak to Jon about all that had happened to him, but was only promised an audience on Jon's return.

 _ **Just look up to the stars high above…..**_

Sansa took in a deep breath as she looked toward the window. She could tell by the position of the sun that it was mid-day already. She had slept the day away.

Jon had most likely told the servants not to wake her.

Taking in another breath, she rolled over and reached out to Jon's place next to her, only to find it empty and the blankets cold.

Jon had to have been up for hours which meant that he most likely hadn't slept at all after their love making.

He hardly slept at all lately.

 _ **There's no telling what the future holds….**_

Sansa sighed and with a sad smile, arose and sat on the side of the bed, wrapping the fur on the bed around her naked body.

 _ **So many roads to take us home….**_

Suddenly, she heard a commotion outside and stood up, walking across to the window.

 _ **'Cuz you never know….**_

When she looked outside, her smile became brighter and a little bigger when she spotted Arya and Bran in the courtyard, running around and playing Fange Flaggen, one of their favorite games when they were young, with some of the castle's children.

 _ **There's no right or wrong way to go…**_

Arya was laughing as she hit one of the children on the opposite team with a hard snowball before tagging Bran's outstretched hand to 'unfreeze' him, which allowed him to run to the stash of snowballs she had already started piling up in the corner of their side of the field.

 _ **'Cuz you never know, you never know….**_

Since Sansa and her siblings were born during what her father called "The Long Summer", she remembered how her Uncle Benjen used to bring in the snow from the far north for them.

It was the one game they all played together, throwing snowballs at one another.

If you're hit with a snowball, you were considered 'frozen' until one of your teammates could tag you and 'unfreeze' you again. All the while, you tried to steal an item, usually a flag or a medallion, that your opponent had buried in the snow on the other side of the field of play. The first team to capture the 'treasure' as it was called, while all members of their team remained unfrozen, was the victor.

 _ **It's better to say yes than no,  
**_

Sansa's eyes softened as she watched Bran pull Arya out of the way of a rogue snowball, then watched as her sister ran around him, using him as a human shield as they moved closer to the enemy line.

 _ **'Cuz you never know, you never know….**_

She remembered how Arya would begrudgingly be her ally and teammate since Bran and Rickon usually banded together on the other team. Rob would play on the boys' team after some begging, while Jon, sweet and sensitive that he was, always volunteered to help the girls out. Theon, in the early years, stayed out of play. He didn't like snow. Never did. Father always said that it was because he wasn't from the North and left it at that.

Bran and Arya had both been rather quiet, and seemed somewhat hardened and changed somehow, since they had returned home to Winterfell.

Of course, they had all been through so much.

All four of them were no longer the same people they once were when they first left Winterfell those five years before….and all had come under different and somewhat traumatic circumstances.

But, seeing her siblings like this, seeing them smile and laugh and have some fun, even if it was only a passing moment, a shadow of the carefree youth they once lived…

Not playing the part of the Three-eyed Raven and the girl who had become a trained assassin in Bravos…

Not using their acquired powers and strength and just reverting to their old selves….

It warmed her heart.

She knew it wouldn't last.

It couldn't.

There was truly no going back…for any of them.

And Sansa couldn't stop the tears that suddenly came to her eyes and streaked down her cheeks.

# # # # # # # # # #

Twenty minutes later….

"Jon…" Sansa whispered as she placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, coming up behind him in the Winterfell crypt, following his eyes to the recently commissioned statue of Eddard Stark that had arrived while he was gone and the eerie way it glowed in the candlelight next to his sister, Lyanna.

"It doesn't look like him…" was all Jon said in acknowledgement of her presence, not taking his eyes off of the statue.

"That's what Arya said…" Sansa smirked and Jon scoffed a laugh

"She _would_ …." Jon whispered, looking over his shoulder toward Sansa, now taking her hand in his on his shoulder and leaning over to kiss it before looking up into her eyes, "She's beautiful, that hasn't changed….but, she so bold, confident, and _so strong_ in both body and will—she's a fighter and a survivor—like her sister."

Sansa's face fell.

"But, that strength came at a terrible price and I'd give all mine back to revert to the way things _were_ …." she replied softly, "I think she would, too."

"I know that's how _you_ feel…." Jon said sympathetically, turning toward her and leaning his forehead against hers and closing his eyes, "But, knowing Arya, do you really think _she would?"_

Sansa let out a breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she felt her husband's skin against hers, then opened them and pulled back to face Jon, "No. You're right. I think she likes being strong. She's always wanted to have the skills she has, to have a will of her own making, to be a fighter. The path she took, however, I'm sure she wishes were laid with different stones."

"Well," Jon said with a sigh, "We I think we _all_ wish our paths had been laid with different stones in one way or another…."

There was a moment of silence before he added, "But, I want you to know that my journey to you… _that_ is the exception for me."

Sansa smiled as she leaned forward and her nose rubbed against Jon's for a moment before their lips connected and entangled in a passionate kiss.

When he pulled back, he kissed her forehead and whispered against her skin, "I love you."

"I love you," Sansa responded

There was another long pause between them before Jon sucked in a breath and stepped back from her, but didn't release his grip on the sides of her face as his eyes met hers and Sansa could see that something was buried deep in them.

There was sadness there…and fear?

That was unusual for Jon, from what she'd seen and known he'd been through. Jon wasn't afraid of anything anymore.

Finally he released her face and stepped back.

"Jon. You didn't say anything last night when you came in—" Sansa started, concern in her voice at her husband's sudden change in demeanor

"You didn't seem to complain too much about that, as I recall…" Jon smirked playfully, trying to divert the seriousness of the conversation by making Sansa blush at the thought of their love making

" _Jon_ …" Sansa tried again with emphasis, trying to put the sensual thoughts of the previous night out of her head, "I'm being _serious_. I can see it in your face. Something is wrong. What did the messenger from Eastwatch have to say?"

Jon inhaled another breath and took a step back, but said nothing, his eyes gaze turning hard.

They held each other's eyes for a long moment before Jon shook his head and closed his eyes, relenting.

"The Night King…he's been spotted by scouts at Eastwatch – By –The-Sea—"

" _Gods_ …" Sansa said, her face falling and her eyes narrowing in concern as she stepped forward, "They are headed to White Harbor, then."

Jon nodded

"Does Lord Manderly know?" Sansa asked immediately, her eyes searching Jon's

"I told him early this morning in confidence. The Night King is still a day outside of the city. He's sent a raven, ordering an evacuation of his seat….but, I don't know if it will happen in time, Sansa—"

" _Why?_ " Sansa whispered, looking down in thought, her mind racing, "Why would the Night King _do this_ , especially after making such a personal connection with you? He's a Stark. This whole time he's been trying to _warn_ us—you told us that he didn't want—"

"It doesn't matter what he _wants_ , Sansa!" Jon interjected, then lowered his voice again, "Taryn is fighting it, but he's still the Night King, which means that he's still bound to the curse King Aerys put on the Night King and his kind—a curse that forces him to destroy the world of men. He can't sit at Castle Black _forever_ —he can't sit on the wall _forever_ without making some kind of move. He's compelled by old magic that he can't control. White Harbor is taking the long way around… it could buy the rest of Westeros time. And, if not White Harbor, then he'd have to come to Winterfell—"

"But, White Harbor—it's—it's one of the _most_ populated cities on the eastern reach…." Sansa said, then put her hand to her mouth in shock

"I know." Jon whispered

"They bypassed Eastwatch?" Sansa asked, slowly lowering her hand from her mouth

Jon nodded again and Sansa let out a sigh of relief as she knew part of their wildling army was stationed at Eastwatch with Tormund.

After a moment, Sansa stepped forward and took Jon's hand in hers.

"What are we going to do?" she asked softly

Jon closed his eyes at her touch and whispered, "I don't know. I could send men to help White Harbor, but we wouldn't have the numbers...not without the Knights of the Vale. It could be a bloodbath and then Winterfell would be unprotected…."

Sansa nodded in agreement, then added, "Lord Manderly is a discreet man, but he would have surely told some of his kinsmen here at the castle about what is happening. Word will get out and it may cause the other houses to flee from our protection to their seats to protect their homes and families—"

"And take their soldiers with them." Jon finished as he opened his eyes.

After a moment, he turned, still holding his wife's hand and looked up to the face of the statue of Eddard Stark, seeming to search his uncle's lifeless eyes for any guidance as to what he should do.

But, it was Sansa that provided the answer.

"You should talk to Bran, Jon," she advised, "He's the Three-Eyed Raven now…he may have some insight, some clue to the future that might help. He's been anxious to meet with you privately since he got home…."

Jon turned to face her as she finished, " _Speak to him_."

Jon closed his eyes and nodded, "I don't know how much it could help. It may hurt us to take what the Three-Eyed Raven says to heart—"

"There is also the possibility that it could _help us_." Sansa replied instantly, " _Please, Jon_. People's lives are _depending_ on this."

 _ **When you don't leave anything twice,  
And you let go of your pride…**_

Jon let out a breath as he nodded again then looked up to Ned Stark's statue.

 _ **It's time to roll the dice again**_.

"I wonder what father would have done—" he started

"It doesn't matter," Sansa said, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice, "We have to be smarter than him, smarter than Rob…we have to do better. These are different times and we are ruling a different people—people changed by what they've been through, much like us."

Jon opened his mouth to protest then realized that she was right.

 _ **It don't matter what you choose,**_

 _ **There's no way that you can lose…  
**_

"Is _that_ why you're down here?" Sansa suddenly asked, narrowing her eyes

Jon tried to advert his gaze, but couldn't

"Jon," Sansa lamented, "Don't do that to yourself…."

 _ **Just show me something new,  
Right now …..**_

Jon hesitated for a moment then turned to her, his eyes sad.

"Come on…" Sansa gave a small smile of encouragement, jerking her head toward the entrance to the crypt, "Let's go."

 _ **There's no telling what the future holds….**_

Jon took in a deep breath, then reached out and touched the foot of Ned Stark's statue in reverence, then let Sansa take his arm as he led her down the torch lit hall of the underground chamber.

 _ **So many roads could take us home….  
**_

When they reached the statue of Lyanna Stark, Jon kissed the fingers of his free hand and brushed them along the base of her statue as they passed.

 _ **'Cuz you never know….  
**_ # # # # # # # # # #

Jon came out of the crypt first into the wooded area near the North Gate, holding his hand out to Sansa as she climbed up the stone steps behind him.

 _ **There's no right or wrong way to go...**_

"Jon! _Down!_ " Bran suddenly cried behind him and before Jon knew it, he was being pelted with snowballs.

Jon laughed as he pulled Sansa through the doorway of the crypt and shielded her as he looked back over his shoulder toward the band of children chasing Bran joyfully down the main road toward the North Gate.

 _ **Cuz you never know, you never know….**_

Jon made a move to reach down and make his own snowballs in defense, but Sansa stopped him.

"You're frozen…" she smiled, "Remember?"

 _ **It's better to say yes then no…**_

Jon smirked as he watched her move around him and pick up snow to hastily roll into snowballs as Bran came to their side and Jon held his hand out and Bran tagged him.

 _ **'Cuz you never know, you never know…**_

"Well, we captured their treasure..." Bran observed out loud, scoffing a laugh, "They didn't take it very well! They think Arya cheated!" _  
_

Sansa threw a snowball and it connected with one of the children who froze near one of the trees, while the others threw snowballs at the Starks, then took cover in the woods behind the scattered tree trunks and brush.

"Where _is_ Arya?" Sansa laughed as she dodged a snowball by running for cover behind Jon as the snowball missed and smashed at his feet

"Hey!" Jon laughed, over his shoulder at his wife

Suddenly, a figure passed above them, running along the ramparts as snowballs started to rain down upon the children on the other side of the trees.

Jon smiled as he looked up and saw his sister, leaping like a cat, her footing stealthy and sure.

 _ **Break through, break free…  
Imagine all the possibilities…**_

Arya threw her last snowball and hit one of the children right in the face and he fell over immediately.

 _ **Break through, break free…  
Imagine all the possibilities….**_

Sansa and Bran busted out laughing as Jon threw two snowballs and hit the two children near the one that fell.

 _ **Break through, break free….  
Imagine all the possibilities…**_

Sansa immediately threw a snowball from behind Jon, but it missed a young girl. She smirked in satisfaction until Bran hit her in the stomach with a monster snowball and she fell forward, face down into the snowbank.

 _ **Break through, break free…  
Imagine all the possibilities….  
**_  
The last three children continued to throw snowballs as Jon, Sansa and Bran tried to move forward under Arya's cover when she started throwing snowballs again.

 _ **There's no right or wrong way to go,  
'Cuz you never know, you never know….**_

One of the boys hit Bran, but Sansa tagged him, just in time to free him again.

But, soon she felt someone tackle her to the ground as two snowballs went by her head and when she opened her eyes, she found herself lying on a blanket of snow with Jon on top of her.

 _ **It's better to say yes then no,**_

 _ **'Cuz you never know, you never know…**_

"You saved me…" Sansa smirked, her eyes softening as her blue met his deep brown

"Always _…"_ Jon whispered as he leaned forward and kissed her


	25. Chapter 25

_((And...we're back. Enjoy! Song is "Kings and Queens and Vagabonds" by Ellem))_

Sansa smiled as she opened the door to the bedroom at the corner of the hall, holding a tray of soup, bread and ale, and saw the bed empty and Ser Jorah Mormont sitting in a chair near the window, a wool blanket wrapped hastily around him.

"Look who's up…" she said kindly, catching the old knight's attention and he sat up a little straighter then made a move to stand in her presence

"No, _please_ ," Sansa insisted as she crossed the room, "That is not necessary. Save your strength."

Jorah nodded then leaned back in the wooden chair with a small grimace

"Maester Garrod said that you are much improved. How do you feel today?" Sansa inquired, taking a seat on the edge of the bed near Jorah, setting the tray of food next to her.

" _Old_ ," Jorah scoffed in his brogue voice, "Old, but _grateful._ "

His eyes drifted to toward the open window and he smiled, "Grateful for another life—another chance."

Sansa narrowed her eyes curiously and she gracefully got up and moved toward the window, then smiled when she saw Arya below in the courtyard, teaching Lady Lyanna to pivot and avoid an opponent sword lunge.

She turned back to Ser Jorah, "Do you feel like eating?"

"Honestly, food doesn't settle too well since I took the cures in Old Town to rid myself of grey scale"

"Grey scale?" Sansa asked, taken aback

Jorah nodded solemnly as his eyes found hers and he looked for any signs of fear, but there were none.

"It must have been _painful_ …" she said, her voice filed with empathy and now looking down to the scarred skin now noticed running up his left arm. She had been so focused on his wounds when she saw him last, that she hadn't noticed the light scarring that must have gone all the way up the left side of his body.

"It _was_. It was like lowest ring of Hell," Jorah lamented, his voice sad, "But I had moments of solace to sustain me…thoughts of Daenerys to give me hope."

"You loved her…" Sansa whispered knowingly

"I did," Jorah said, lifting his eyes to hers once more

" _I'm sorry_ ," Sansa whispered again, "I can't imagine losing someone like that, especially after all you had done to come back to her, to be worthy of her."

"We only had a short time together," Jorah acknowledged with a sad smile, "But, it was worth every ounce of pain. It was my honor to serve her…" then his voice changed tone and became more hopeful, "As it is now my honor to serve her nephew."

Sansa just took in a breath. She had tried not to think about going back to Kings Landing.

In fact, she and Jon had carefully danced around the subject for days, even avoiding talking about him taking Daenerys' place on the Iron Throne among themselves in private moments, though she was desperate to know his thoughts.

However, she had decided not to press him. The assassination attempt and Jon being gone for the last two days out to the Northern reach, had helped keep the status quo, but he would have to make a decision _sometime_ and she would have to entertain the thought of returning to a place that brought her nothing but pain.

"Well," Sansa said, changing the subject, "I promised the Maester I would get _something_ in you. He says you haven't really eaten since you were injured and I had hoped to work my womanly wiles on you…" she chuckled

Ser Jorah gave her a disarming smile

"But, I understand," Sansa continued sympathetically, "However, you _should_ really take _something,_ Ser Jorah, to keep up your strength. How about we compromise?"

Jorah smirked and raised an eyebrow, "My Lady?"

"I have some _fantastically_ brewed stout porter ale on that tray over there. The North's finest. If you drink that ale— _all_ of it, I'll toss the soup and tell Maester Garrod you ate it. You can keep the bread for later, in case you do get hungry. Do we have a bargain?"

Ser Jorah smirked again, then nodded and Sansa walked over to the bed.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong My Lady, but, as I recall, the North is famous for _many_ things….good fighters, beautiful women and gorgeous scenery…but, we are _not_ the brewers or the fine wine makers of the South. I heard the ale at Castle Black tastes like horse piss…"

Sansa smiled at his comments as she carefully took the stein by the handle and turned, then leaned forward and handed it to Ser Jorah.

" _Still_ , it's heavy enough that it will fill your stomach for now…" Sansa replied

The knight looked down into the stein and then raised his blue eyes up to the Lady of Winterfell, watching her as she took a seat on the edge of the bed again.

"You're going to watch me?" he asked with a raised eyebrow

"Yes." Sansa replied with a twinkle in her eye

"House Mormont has kept faith with House Stark for centuries…" Jorah teased, "I wouldn't dare break faith now, My Lady."

Sansa chuckled then turned her face to mock seriousness, "Of course, Ser Jorah, but all the same... I'm going to watch you drink _all of that_."

"Damn," Jorah chided with a defeated smile, then slowly raised the stein to his lips

He took a long drink, then lowered the stein, closing his eyes as he swallowed with a grimace

" _God_ …that's just as _awful_ as I remember!" he gaffed then coughed, bringing the back of his hand to his mouth. He then turned toward Sansa, "Want some?"

" _No_ , Thank you!" Sansa laughed, holding up her hands in defense then continuing with a humorous smile, "I'm trying _desperately_ to cut back."

Ser Jorah busted out laughing, then after a few moments grimaced again as he brought the stein back to his lips.

After he finished the ale, Jorah, lowered the stein and looked over to Sansa, "I'm sorry I won't be there with you and Jon this evening."

"Don't be," Sansa soothed, "We are grateful for all that you've done, Ser Jorah and that you are on the mend. You should save your strength. I'll be certain to give your sentiments to Jon."

"Thank you," Jorah nodded, then said in a haunted voice, "There's nothing worse than outliving your parents."

# # # # # # #

Jon cocked his head as he examined the line of farm carts rolling in through the East Gate of Winterfell, each load driven by two soldiers.

"How many bushels?" he asked Davos

"Four thousand, My Lord," Davos replied, placing his hand behind his back

"And grain?" Jon asked

"The families with seats the closest to Winterfell have offered their grain stores for the winter. Most of the Northern seats closest to the Wall will come here when the battle begins, Lord Manderly and Lord Cerwin thought it a good idea."

"Aye," Jon replied, "It is. It's always best to be prepared. Do we know when the grain is expected to arrive?"

"Within a few more days, Sir."

Jon let out a steadying breath, then whispered to himself, "Let's hope those poor souls at White Harbor last that long…"

"My Lord?" Davos asked, furrowing his brow as he stepped forward

"Nothing…." Jon replied over his shoulder, then when the last of the carts rolled past, Jon was able to focus his gaze beyond the armory to his brother, Bran, who he now saw walking, alone and with purpose, through the crowd of peasants toward the Godswood.

# # # # # # # # #

As he entered the Godswood, Jon kept his eyes focused on Bran as his brother knelt before one of the weeping trees and tentatively reached out and touched its face.

Jon took a seat on a nearby stump and watched him silently for a few moments before Bran looked over his shoulder toward his brother with white-filled eyes and spoke in a voice that was not his own—a voice that sounded other worldly, his hand still connect to the tree, "I hear the voice inside your mind ….you seek my council."

Jon swallowed, lowering his hand to Longclaw at his side, then gathered his courage and straightened, "Where is my brother? What have you done with him?"

"I _am_ him," the voice replied and the white filled eyes narrowed, "The Three- Eyed Raven."

Jon took a step back, ready to turn and leave.

He knew his brother had accepted the power of The Three-Eyed Raven, but he was not expecting _this._

"If you leave now…" the voice spoke from Bran's lips, "Your question _will not_ be answered."

"Question?" Jon scoffed, nervously, tentatively stepping forward

"Yes," the Three Eyed Raven replied, "You have carried it in your mind since you saw your first servant of the Night King as a man in black. Do not fear…for it is the question all men seek to know when confronted with times such as these. It is best you ask it now before we discuss what I have seen of the threat that is to come."

Jon swallowed again, but before he could open his mouth, the Three Eyed Raven spoke again impatiently.

"Speak your question."

Jon took in a breath then finally asked, "Will—Will I survive this battle…the battle against the Night King?"

The Three Eyed Raven moved his head in a circle as if sensing the question in the ether before speaking the answer.

"Succeed you will in setting your ancestor free…" The Three-Eyed Raven replied, "Save your people, you will...but, Jon Stark of Winterfell _will not_ survive the battle that is to come. It is in a different time and space that I see you, King of the North."

# # # # # # # #

Though it was well after dark, there was a silent restlessness in the Winterfell courtyard.

Finally, the bell in the Maester's tower began to ring ominously and within moments, the large wooden doors to the Great Hall opened and Jon Stark, King of the North and Lord of Winterfell, stepped out into the light falling snow.

He stood at the entrance for a moment, looking to the small crowd of Nothern Lords and their servants and soldiers. Jon soon spotted Lord Varys, Arya and Bran among them.

Within a few moments, Sansa came to his side, dressed in a white fur lined dress as bright as the falling snow, her long red hair pulled back in a braid. She gave her husband a sad, but reassuring smile before taking his offered arm.

 _ **We lay down in the riverbed….**_

Taking in a breath, Jon stepped forward and led the procession as six of his guard followed him and his wife, carrying with honor, on their shoulders, the preserved body of Jaqen H'gar, known only to a few, but now known to everyone in Winterfell as Rhaegar Targaryen.

 _ **Rest in the silhouettes our fathers and mothers laid before…**_

Rhaegar was wrapped in a golden cloth that revealed his strong, but scarred shoulders and his face –his eyes still covered in Bravosi coins.

 _ **Restless souls in the desert sand…**_

As they passed and walked at a steady pace along the path, the leaders of the Northern houses all bowed their heads in respect as the bell continued to toll. Jon had asked them to ring it for every year of his father's life. The Maester had guessed Rhaegar's age, post-mortem, as 43.

 _ **Dreamed of another land that heroes and villains claimed before….**_

As they crossed the threshold out of the courtyard and onto the main road toward Winterfell's North gate, Sansa squeezed Jon's arm as they were suddenly confronted with sight of crowds of people lining the either side of the road, holding torches that illuminated their kind faces, young and old, in the darkness.

They paused for a moment and Jon's face softened as he beheld the sight, before he continued to lead the funeral procession forward.

 _ **We are Kings and Queens and Vagabonds….**_

As they passed slowly, the townspeople in the crowd began to close their eyes in reverence, bowing and curtseying as they would to any royalty.

Soon, it became obvious to Jon and Sansa that the people weren't bowing to them, that they were doing so after they had passed.

It was Rhaegar Targaryen—the last of the Great Dragons—that they were paying their respect to.

 _ **We are Kings and Queens and Vagabonds….**_

When they made it to the North entrance, Jon and Sansa paused and the soldiers on the ramparts above pulled the lever, raising the large, iron gate.

The iron soon hit the top stone of the entry arch with a loud clatter and Jon led Sansa and the funeral procession slowly through the threshold to the waiting pyre in the open snow.

 _ **We came up with the fire light….**_

As the townspeople, soldiers and servants gathered inside the gate's entrance, keeping a respectful distance, the leaders of the Northern houses, Lord Varys, Bran and Arya followed Jon, Sansa and the soldiers carrying Rhaegar's body out into the open beyond Winterfell's walls.

 _ **Raised in the black of night….**_

As they all parted and moved in a circle around the pyre, the soldiers came forward and gently lay Rhaegar on the pyre.

 _ **Falling like angels to the floor….**_

Soon, Jon looked up to the sky and suddenly, there was strong wind and Rhaegal folded his wings as he landed in the distance. It was almost as if he could sense what was happening and he wanted to be there.

 _ **We are Kings and Queens and Vagabonds…**_

Sansa released Jon's arm and he walked over to Rhaegal, who met him and made a low growling noise as Jon ran his hand gently along the dragon's snout as Rhaegal opened his nostrils to smell the Targaryen blood about to be burned on the pyre.

Soon, the dragon nuzzled him back.

 _ **We are Kings and Queens and Vagabonds**_ ….

Still holding Rhaegal's head gently, Jon turned toward those gathered around his father's pyre.

 _ **We are…**_

"He was a man of many faces...a man who was someone, but humbly chose to become 'No One' so that he might serve others—a man of truth and kindness. His body we commit to the earth, his ashes to rise to grace the stars. His soul we humbly ask the Gods to guide to the Undying Lands and into the arms of his ancestors. 'Valar Morghulis'…for all men must die."

 _ **We are….**_

"Courage and Honor" Jon said solemnly, letting go of Rhaegal's snout and stepping forward as the dragon shook his neck and opened his wings, then took off quietly.

"Strength and valor" was the unified response from those gathered on the other side of the pyre as one of the Winterfell soldiers came forward and handed Jon a lit torch.

 _ **So hold me down….**_

"Fire and Blood…" Jon said, speaking the words of House Targaryen, before he summoned his strength, stepped forward and threw the torch into the bottom of the pyre, instantly setting it a light

As he stepped back, Jon felt Sansa's hand slip into his and he looked over to see her at his side again.

 _ **Hold me down….**_

Then their gazes turned toward the flames rising up around Rhaegar Targaryen's body.

 _ **We are Kings and Queens and Vagabonds….**_

But, soon, Jon's tear filled eyes moved up to the dark night sky and Rhaegal as he circled overhead, letting out mournful screeches.

 _ **We are Kings and Queens and Vagabonds…**_

Jon closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to the Gods that the Three Eyed Raven had been wrong about his fate and that by Winter's end, Rhaegal would not be flying above _his_ funeral pyre.


	26. Chapter 26

That night Jon had restless sleep, unable to put the words The Three-Eyed Raven said to him, out of his mind.

He couldn't believe that he had been foolish enough to ask the one question no man should ever ask…and now he knew his own fate.

He would die by the time this war was over.

Unsure what time it was, Jon finally turned under the weight of the furs on the bed he shared with Sansa and let out a breathy sigh as he opened his eyes.

Suddenly, his eyes widened then softened as Ygritte's face hovered over him, a light shining behind her like the sun after a morning spring rain.

Jon opened his mouth to speak, but Ygritte put a finger to his lips to silence him.

"You should sleep….King of the North…." she whispered in her wildling brogue, leaning closer and searching his dark eyes

"I can't…" Jon replied softly, still stunned by the vision of her

Ygritte gave a sad smirk when she saw the pain and the fear in his eyes, then leaned closer and whispered against his lips.

"You _still_ know _nothing,_ Jon Snow…." then he felt her hand stroke the side of his face, "Death is only the beginning. Remember… if we die, _we die_ —for it was always meant to be so. But, first….we'll live."

She smiled and suddenly all of Jon's fear melted away as she leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

When she pulled back, Jon kept his eyes closed, relishing the feel of her touch.

" _Live,_ Jon Snow… _"_ she whispered again, " _Just live_ …."

# # # # # # # # # #

Jon opened his eyes with a start, lifting his head off of the pillow then quickly turned to face his brother, Bran, who was standing at the edge of his bed, his hand on Jon's arm.

When he realized that it was Bran who had induced the vision of Ygritte, Jon opened his mouth to say something, but Bran put a finger to his lips before nodding over to Sansa still sleeping at Jon's side.

Bran then signaled for Jon to follow him and Jon carefully sat up and pushed the covers back. He sat on the edge of bed for a moment, looking over his shoulder at his sleeping wife, before standing up and following Bran out of the room.

# # # # # # # # # #

"I'm sorry about that Jon..." Bran lamented as they stood on the dark rampart of the Hunter's Gate and looked out into the light snow falling on the trees in the distant woods, "For inducing that vision, but I felt that it was necessary to calm you after what happened between us in the Godswood yesterday. What you saw me do...what you heard me say...well, sometimes I _can't control it_ —what the Night King gave me—"

"What do you _mean_?" Jon asked, turning his dark eyes toward his brother in sudden worry, "What did he give you?"

Bran took in a steadying breath, then said, "When he finally broke through my visions and told me who he _truly_ was—he—well, he said that you would need me…and that you would need me _whole_."

"What does that mean?" Jon inquired quirking an eyebrow, " _Whole_?"

"As the Three-Eyed Raven I can see what is and what was. The Night King….he gave me part of himself so that I can see _everything_ , Jon….the past, the present and, Gods help me, even the future—y _our future_ ….so that I could help you. He's giving you a weapon to even the odds, and that weapon is _me_."

Jon let out a stunned breath as Bran continued, "When he was a living man, Taryn Stark was one of the most powerful warlocks that ever lived in the seven kingdoms…. and even now, as Night King, that power has not left him. There is a reason why _he_ was sacrificed by the Children of The Forest. You've seen him raise the dead, Jon…you've seen the other things he can do…. I know that at the Wall, he showed you a small piece of your past and your future. That vision of the future is _quite significant_ to what else I'm about to tell you…."

Jon nodded, though he felt as though he was going to be sick.

"His power inside me…it's what is allowing me to walk, Jon," Bran smirked, "And it's _unbelievable_ …"

Then Bran's face fell, "But, as I said before…the power is _very_ difficult to harness or control, because really, it's just borrowed. I'm not its true wielder…and it's fighting me. Every day…. It's like it's trying to _destroy_ me—"

"Bran…" Jon said sympathetically, "You don't _have_ to do this. Especially, if it will—"

"Yes, I _do_ ," Bran insisted, "This is my purpose now and I _want_ to. You're my brother. You're my family…. and so is Arya and Sansa…. You all need me to be here at Winterfell and so do the thousands of people who will die without the knowledge and power I possess."

There was a moment of silence then Bran said, "Jon, Taryn told me something else-something that you should know—something that he saw and sensed in you the first time his army fought you at Hardhome."

"And what is that?" Jon asked, straightening, almost afraid to know the answer

Bran smirked, "The fulfillment of a prophecy long foretold in the Targaryen family. You, see, despite all he gave up and became after he faked his own death at the Trident and became Jaqen H'ghar, Rhaegar Targaryen _did_ believe _one thing_ about himself—about his destiny—something that his father told him his _entire_ life….and that was that he was destined to love a woman who would bear him a son—a son who would unite and take back the seven kingdoms—a son in whom great power would be instilled….the power to wield a flaming sword and conquer darkness…. even defy death itself…."

Jon took in a sharp breath, remembering the scars from the stab wounds on his chest….the scars that suddenly ached.

"But….Rhaegar—my father—he already had a son, Aegon…" Jon replied, his eyes narrowing in confusion

" _Yes,_ " Bran said, " _But_ , the marriage the child was born from was an _arranged_ one, not one of love or passion. That detail was something _very important_ to Rhaegar—"

"Then he met my mother…" Jon whispered, knowingly, "And everything we were told about Robert's Rebellion was built on a lie told by a man with a bruised ego."

Bran nodded, "Rhaegar _did_ love your mother. So much so, that he saw his chance to fulfill the prophecy and annul his first marriage to marry her, to legitimize any children he might have with her—and as it turns out, the first of those children _was_ a son…. _you_."

"I don't doubt that I'm Daenerys' true heir—it makes sense. I'm the only living Targaryen. I know that the Iron Throne is mine by birthright," then Jon scoffed, glancing sideways at Bran, "Did Varys put you up to this?"

"No, Jon," Bran interjected, shaking his head, "This isn't about you going to King's Landing and claiming the Iron Throne. I would never force your hand to make such a decision—that choice is yours and yours _alone_. Though, I sense, after speaking with Night King, you know what you must do."

There was another pause, then Bran continued, "This conversation is about the fulfillment of that ancient prophecy—that of the 'Prince That Was Promised'.

Jon sighed, "That _again_ …"

"So you know of the prophecy?" Bran asked, surprised

"I've heard of it," Jon said, leaning forward on the stone wall, "Davos told me about what Melisandre told him…it sounded like what father used to tell us about Azor Ahai, remember? When we were children?"

Bran smirked and nodded, "Father told us that he was an ancient warrior who, according to some religions, beat back to descending darkness with a flaming sword given to him by the Lord of Light. Father followed the religion of the Old Gods, but he _did_ believe in reincarnation as all Northerners do…. And that is what this Targaryen prophecy _is_ Jon. It's a reincarnation story—Azor Ahai's reincarnation story."

Jon furrowed his brow as he straightened and Bran continued, "When Aunt Lyanna told Father your real name in the Tower of Joy, he must have known….he had to have. Why else would he have risked his honor to protect you for all those years? I think it was _so much more_ than just a promise to his beloved sister….he, more than all the Starks, always believed that winter _would come_ —that the 'darkness' _would come_ and after you were born, I think he realized that _you_ would be the one to destroy it."

Jon stood there speechless for a long moment, then Bran broke the silence, "But, that's _not_ what I believe. I think they were all _wrong_."

"What?" Jon asked, cocking his head

"You were born in Dorne, Jon. You were born in a tower—there was blood, lots of blood, but the prophecy clearly states that the 'Prince That Was Promised' was to be born in smoke and salt—you were born in _neither_. Therefore, it's not _you,_ Jon. It can't be—"

Jon shook his head and held up a hand, "Wait…wait….not that I subscribe to any of this nonsense… _truly_ …but, I'm the _last_ Targaryen—my father died believing this prophecy and that I was to be the reincarnation that would fight the darkness…. and trust me, Bran, I've seen the darkness. I may not wield a flaming sword right now, but—"

"Jon…." Bran interjected his eyes forlorn, "You know your future. The Three-Eyed Raven told you in the Godswood—"

Jon straightened, swallowing as he replied, "I _know…_ I don't survive the war…." then he smirked sadly, "I've seen and been told everything else that I am to do, though I'm not sure _how_ I'm going to do it…."

Bran reached out and touched his brother's shoulder, "You'll find a way. And you have us to help you."

Jon let a small smile cross his lips, "Thank You."

"Jon, there _is_ a reason that I've brought you out here tonight… there is something I want to _show_ you. I think you should see it because it might assuage your fears and redirect your purpose again in this fight."

Jon's eyes narrowed with interest

"May I show you?" Bran asked, his gaze steadily meeting his brother's

Jon nodded

"It's about your death," Bran said in warning, holding out a hand for Jon to take, "The _whole story_ about your death."

Jon smirked, then chuckled in nervous amusement as he held out his hand and announced, "The death of the last living Targaryen…we should sell tickets."

Bran narrowed his eyes, then said with a knowing smile, "But, Jon…you're _not_ the last living Targaryen."

# # # # # # # # #

Sansa grimaced as she quickly sat up on the edge of the bed she shared with Jon, swallowing hard and trying to calm the nervous anticipation seeming to flutter in her stomach.

She took in a few deep breaths to steady herself before looking back over her shoulder to where her husband usually lay beside her.

But, he was gone.

Sansa narrowed her eyes for a moment, worried…

But, soon, the feeling left her as another feeling came over her….

" _Oh…_." she grimace again and leaned forward, reaching under their bed for the chamber pot.

She then held her hair back and vomited the contents of her stomach into it.

# # # # # # # # #

Arya turned in her chair by the fireplace with the agility of a cat to face the doorway to her chambers as they opened.

Instantly, she let her guard down when she heard her sister's voice whisper, "Arya?"

Arya immediately leapt to her feet when she saw Sansa's pale face in the light of the evening fire.

"You're not asleep?" Sansa asked, seemingly in a daze as she crossed the threshold

"I don't sleep anymore…" Arya replied quickly, then moved forward and took hold of her sister's arm, "You don't look well."

"I don't _feel_ well," Sansa admitted

"Where is Jon?" Arya asked

"He's gone somewhere…he wasn't in bed with me when I woke…." Sansa replied, then laid down heavily on Arya's bed when her sister guided her over.

"Stay here," Arya said, "I'll wake Maester Garrod."

# # # # # # # # #

 _ **Forty Minutes Later….**_

"I can give you some herbs to help with nausea and malaise, but I think most of the symptoms should pass within the next couple of weeks…." the Maester said, then stopped when he saw Sansa's glossed over eyes, staring, seemingly in disbelief, past him, " _My Lady?_ " he asked, trying to meet Sansa's gaze

"It's impossible," Sansa whispered, "I've—I've only been married for _two weeks_ —"

"Based on the usual tests and symptoms, I don't know what else it could be, My Lady…" Maester Garrod smiled, "But, I would say that at least it's good news and not serious."

"I—I'm just—I'm…." Sansa stuttered, unsure what else to say, her eyes still fluttering in disbelief and the prospect and nervousness and deep down excitement making her feel nauseous all over again

"Pregnant," Arya interjected with a smirk, looking over to her sister from where she sat on the edge of the bed next to her, then rested her hand lovingly on Sansa's shoulder, "Admitting out loud it is the first step, Love."


	27. Chapter 27

_((Quick turn around :) Song is "Stand By Me" by Bootstraps. I thought it was a haunting and beautiful version. Enjoy!))_

 _"Isn't he beautiful?" Sansa whispered through her tears as she looked down to the small bundle in her arms._

 _"He certainly is…" Jon whispered in awe, gazing down at his newborn son over his wife's shoulder and stroking the baby's soft arm that lay outside the blankets, causing it to flex the fingers of it's tiny hand in response to its father's touch._

 _All of this was transpiring despite the ringing of the tower bell in alarm and the smell of smoke as the invading army began to set fire to Winterfell._

 _"He's perfect…" Jon affirmed_

 _Suddenly, the sound of glass breaking and wooden doors falling down broke them out of their trance._

 _"We can't stay…" Jon said, looking down into Sansa's eyes_

 _"My Lady has lost too much blood…she shouldn't be moved so soon after—" Maester Garrod insisted from the end of the bed, wiping his bloodied hands on a cloth._

 _"I took your advice and we stayed for birth after the attack began because you said it was too late to move her, but now that the baby is here, I will not leave my wife behind—"_

 _"Yes, you can…" Sansa suddenly said in a resolved tone_

 _"What?!" Jon replied, turning back to her in shock_

 _"You should take the baby and go," Sansa encouraged_

 _"No," Jon responded, his eyes instantly filling with fear and emotion, "I would never leave you—"_

 _"I know, my love," Sansa replied with a sad smile, bringing her free hand up to stroke Jon's cheek, "But, Lady Brianne and Ser Davos can protect me—"_

 _"I will protect you, Sansa and our son—"_

 _"Jon!" Sansa cried, removed her hand from his face and now clutched his arm to get his attention, "Please…listen. We can't them take him! We have to make sure he makes it out of here alive…even if we don't."_

 _Jon locked eyes with his wife for a long moment then closed his eyes in pain._

 _He knew she was right. The baby had to survive._

 _As she started to cry, he pulled Sansa's still damp forehead to his lips and kissed her forehead, then looked over to the baby and watched as his wife tried to control her weeping as she leaned forward and whispered, "Goodbye, Benjen…I will see you again."_

 _ **When the night has come…**_

 _Then, she kissed the baby's forehead, letting her lips linger for a long moment before pulling away._

 _ **And land is dark….**_

 _"Take him…" she then said with a trembling lip and voice, "Get him to safety."_

 _Jon nodded, reservation still in his face at leaving her, then stood from the edge of the bed as Sansa gently handed him the baby._

 _ **And the moon is the only light we see…**_

 _Jon looked down at his son's small face as he adjusted him in the crook of his arm then he leaned forward and kissed Sansa on the lips._

 _ **No, I won't be afraid** …_

 _He let his forehead rest against hers for a long moment, then said, "I'll make sure he's safe, away from the castle and then I will come back for you…I promise."_

 _ **Oh, I won't be afraid….**_

 _Jon then turned to Maester Garrod, "When I leave the room, bar the door."_

 _ **Just as long as you stand, stand by me…**_

 _The old Maester nodded as Sansa lay back on the pillows, covering her mouth to hide her sobbing as she watched her husband turn away from her with the baby in his arms and hurriedly leave the room._

 _ **So darling, darling stand by me….**_

 _When Jon stepped out into the hallway, he was immediately confronted by two Lannister soldiers who instantly charged him._

 _ **Oh, stand by me….**_

 _"Right…here we go…" Jon whispered, looking down at his sleeping newborn son before drawing Longclaw from its sheath at his side, raising it in defense, just as the first of the soldiers engaged him._

 _ **Oh stand, stand by me….**_

 _Jon pivoted on his front foot as their swords clanged, Jon keeping in quick step with his enemy—sword fighting with one hand, while holding his son protectively against his chest with the other._

 _Finally, after their swords crossed over top of the baby, nearly harming him, Jon let out a cry of anger and spun around swiftly, cutting the soldier at the back of the legs and watched the man fall to the ground with an intense cry of pain—one of his legs completely severed._

 _ **If the sky we look upon….**_

 _Suddenly, the second soldier was on him and Jon turned to engage him._

 _This one was faster and Jon leaned back at a perpendicular angle as the soldier's sword crossed swiftly over his face and torso, barely brushing the blankets that swaddled the baby._

 _ **Should tumble and fall…**_

 _But, making such a move so early, the soldier had left himself open to attack and Jon took the opportunity to stab the man through the weak part of his chest armor when he straightened upright, again._

 _ **Or the mountain should crumble to the sea….**_

 _Jon didn't see or hear the third soldier approach until he heard the man's angry battle cry._

 _Out of reflex, Jon quickly turned his back to protect his son from the impending blow and the Lannister soldier's sword speared through Jon's right shoulder near the joint._

 _ **I won't cry, I won't cry…..**_

 _Jon cried out in pain and stumbled forward, but did not fall._

 _He grimaced, but gathered strength as he looked down at his son, assuring he was safe in his opposite arm._

 _ **No, I won't shed a tear….**_

 _Then, while the soldier's sword was still stuck in Jon's shoulder, Jon leaned back with all of his weigh, letting it go clean through, inching him closer and closer to the enemy, before reaching backward with Longclaw and cutting the man's head clean off._

 _ **Just as long as you stand,**_

 _Then, with agile grace, Jon leaned forward as the man fell, letting the sword slide out of his shoulder._

 _ **Stand by me….**_

 _Jon stood there for a moment, taking in a steadying breath before he immediately sheathed Longclaw and took off running toward the south passage, holding his newborn son protectively against his chest._

 _Jon took the stairs that would lead him down to the Great Hall, but as he descended, flames and smoke quickly rose up in front of him, creating a barrier wall._

 _ **So darling, darling stand by me…**_

 _Jon cried out in frustration, then turned and raced back up the steps and headed toward the Maester's tower._

 _If he could get onto the ramparts…_

 _ **Oh, stand….**_

 _"Jon!" a familiar voice suddenly called out and Jon turned to see a cloaked figure crouching in one of the open tower windows._

 _The figure quickly threw back the hood and Jon immediately saw that it was Arya._

 _ **Stand by me ….**_

 _"Thank the Gods!" Jon smiled in relief as he moved toward her, "Are you alright?"_

 _"They're burning Winterfell, Jon…" Arya said in anger and disbelief, "The Great Hall, the courtyard, the library tower and the armory—all up in flames—I got about fifteen of them already but, I didn't see you or Sansa..."_

 _Suddenly, her eyes softened as she saw the bundle tucked in Jon's arm, "Is that…?"_

 _ **Oh, stand by me….**_

 _Jon smirked and turned the baby so that Arya could see his face._

 _Arya smiled in awe, "What's his name?"_

 _"Benjen…" Jon replied, "Benjen Eddard Stark."_

 _ **Feel my love, stand by me...**_

 _Then, after a moment, his face sobered as he heard the clanging of armor approaching—large numbers of soldiers coming to sack the upper levels._

 _Smoke also began to billow in larger amounts up the stairwell from the Great Hall._

 _"Here," Jon said, holding the baby out to Arya, "You have to take him."_

 _ **Stand by me...**_

 _"What?" Arya cried in disbelief, but obediently took the baby into her arms, "What about you—Sansa—what about Davos and—"_

 _"Benjen has to survive this…even if we don't." Jon insisted, "If all goes well, we'll meet you at the Twins in two days. Please…Arya, take him and go… for me…go!"_

 _ **Stand by me...**_

 _Suddenly, a large group of Lannister soldiers that included Jaime Lannister came charging through the smoke._

 _"Go! You have to go! Go!" Jon cried and Arya's eyes widened before she pulled her hood up and wrapped her cloak around the baby._

 _ **Stand by me...**_

 _Suddenly, before Jon could turn and fight, a menagerie of swords found their target in his back and sides._

 _"No! Jon!" Arya screamed and the baby in her robes began to cry_

 _"Please…" Jon pleaded, blood now coming from his mouth as he fell to his knees, his dark eyes dilating as they looked up to his sister, who immediately heeded his words and jumped through the window and down into the shadow of the night with the baby before Jaime Lannister could reach out and grab her._

 _As Jon fell to the floor, the sensation of his own blood pooling around him, he focused his eyes on the empty window._

 _And his heart and his mind were at peace knowing he would die for a purpose…knowing that his son was safe._

 _Suddenly, Jon felt his eyes flutter, his body felt cold...and then everything went dark._

# # # # # # #

Jon gasped as Bran released his arm on the torch lit ramparts of Winterfell, the vision at an end.

There was a long silence as Bran watched a tear streak down Jon's cheek, his lip trembling.

"You're in shock…" Bran said, then lamented, "We should get you inside—"

"Blood...Sansa's blood is the 'salt'..." Jon suddenly said, his dark eyes lifting to focus on Bran, "And the 'smoke' you spoke of in the prophecy... is the burning of Winterfell?"

Bran nodded, his eyes sad, "Yes. Benjen will be the 'Prince That Was Promised'."

Jon swallowed, "My son...does he...does he survive? Does he truly bring light to seven kingdoms?"

Bran closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them and said, "The future beyond that night is not yet written. Therefore, I cannot give you the assurance you seek."

"But, Sansa and I _will_ have a son?" Jon asked

Bran gave a small smile and nodded, "And he's already here."


	28. Chapter 28

After Arya and the Maester left the room, Sansa sat still on the edge of the bed, her thoughts racing as she wrapped her arms protectively around herself.

She closed her eyes as she took in a steadying breath then, after a moment, stood, certain she needed some fresh air, though she still felt queasy.

Sansa quickly moved to the nearby chair to collect her fur cloak and threw it over her shoulders before quietly unlatching the door and opening it.

When she stepped out into the hall, she turned to close the door and immediately stiffened when she saw Jon standing at the end of the torch lit hallway.

Their eyes locked for a long moment and Sansa took in his face—it was a mixture of joy, sadness and hope….

Sansa narrowed her eyes in confusion, opening her mouth to say something, but Jon held up a hand to silence her as he moved quickly forward and closed the distance between them, his eyes softening as he beheld her.

Finally, he fell to his knees in front of Sansa and, moving her cloak aside, looked right at her stomach as if he _knew_ …

But, how could he?

Sansa closed her eyes as her husband leaned forward and kissed her stomach softly through the fabric of her gown then sighed as he gently lay his forehead against it and wrapped his arms around her lovingly.

"Jon—"

"Don't say anything…" Jon interjected, "You'll ruin it."

Sansa opened her eyes and looked down to him, bringing a gentle hand to run through his dark hair as she replied, "Ruin what?"

Jon sighed contently again, then released his hold around her and brought himself to his feet, his eyes welling with tears.

"The happiest day of my _entire_ life," he said softly, then leaned forward and kissed her passionately.

# # # # # # # #

Bran had just sat down in front of the hearth in his chambers, allowing himself to be warmed by the roaring fire after standing with Jon in the cold winter night air, when the door opened and Arya haughtily walked in to the room.

"Well…" Bran gestured with a sigh, "By all means...please…Come in…."

"What did you tell Jon?" Arya inquired in a low, but demanding tone, "I saw them in the hallway just now-"

"Spying are we? Is that what Faceless Men do when they aren't killing for the many faced God,"

"I make it my business to know _everything._..to protect our family," Arya countered, "Bran, Jon _knew_ Sansa was pregnant. How could he know unless you told him something, unless you _saw_ something in his future, in _our_ futures? And how is it that she is pregnant so soon after their marriage? I don't claim to know much about such things, but, even I know that _can't_ be possible unless there was some other force at work in all of this—"

"You really should knock before you enter someone's chambers…." Bran quipped in his solemn, but steady voice as he laid his head back on the cushion at the top of the chair, avoiding her questions, "I could have been naked—"

Arya rolled her eyes, "Bran, stop stonewalling. You're terrible at it _and_ you are a terrible liar as well. I'm going to know the truth sooner or later."

"Ah _…the truth_ ," Bran replied, staring at the flames of the fire wearily, "Are you sure? It's not wise to ask one so powerful about truth—"

"Stop the fancy words-mithing!" Arya retorted, "You may be the Three-Eyed Raven, but I'm your sister and I know everything there is to know about you—I can read you like a book—and you _will_ tell me."

"You knew everything about Brandon Stark of Winterfell…." Bran corrected, raising his head from the pillow and meeting her gaze directly, his brown eyes somehow dead in the firelight, "But you know nothing of who I am now."

Arya opened her mouth to speak, but Bran interrupted her again, his gaze moving to the dagger and the sword on the hilt of Arya's belt, "And if I _don't_ talk…. you'll do what, sister? Slit my throat?"

Arya took a step back, her face wounded as she shook her head and whispered, "No…."

"Then leave me in peace, Arya. I've already doled out one ill fated future tonight…I don't wish to share another."

Arya's eyes narrowed, "Bran, what do you mean by—"

"I _mean_ …." Bran said, more adamantly, "If you stay here a moment longer, I shall be forced to tell you _your_ future….and believe me, it's _not_ a happy ending."

Arya's face dropped and she immediately stepped forward to press him further, but stopped dead in her tracks, when Bran swiftly turned in his chair toward her, his eyes now turned completely white and the voice of her mentor and teacher, Jaqen H'ghar, sounding from his lips.

"A girl has no patience. A girl should never know too much of who she is and what she shall do and be…. For if she does, a lovely girl shall pay the price for such folly."

At the words, Arya's face blanched and she turned on her heel and immediately rushed from the room.

After a moment, Bran's eyes turned back to their normal soft brown and he solemnly turned them back toward the flames of the dancing fire.

It wasn't long before the pain in his right arm, where the Night King had touched him months ago when he was in the cave of the Three Eyed Raven, returned and he grimaced as he pulled back his shirt sleeve and looked at the mark.

It still looked like a raw frost bite now...still...even after all this time...

And, everyday, it moved further and further up his arm to consume his entire body, just like the Night King said it would.

The Night King had given Bran a gift and a curse and what he was seeing was the price of the curse.

But, despite all his suffering, Bran chose only to see it as a gift for the time being...a gift that could help save his family and the Seven Kingdoms.

Dealing with the curse? Well, that would have to come later.

Jon only knew that possessing the Night King's powers was dangerous for Bran...and that's all he wanted him to know for now.

Soon, he might mention it casually to Arya and Sansa...

It would be so much easier if his siblings knew there was a struggle within, but believed that Bran could let it all go when this was over, that he could just release the power and return to his wheelchair and sit on the council at Winterfell next to Jon and Sansa.

But, that was a futile dream now. He knew the curse had a hefty price and it was one that he had accepted willingly.

For better or worse, Bran was now tied to Taryn Stark and when Taryn, as the Night King, received the death he had always wanted at the end of the coming war, Bran would die too.

 _'No,'_ Bran decided to himself, pulling his shirt sleeve down as he let out a sigh, _'it's best not to tell anyone anything about the true nature of my condition. It would only complicate things.'_

Then he closed his eyes and thought of the words his father had once spoken to him, _"The man who passes the sentence, should swing the sword."_

Bran opened his eyes again and softened them as he looked into the flames of the fire once more, content in the knowledge that one day he would be his very own judge and executioner, that he would live up to tales of the noble northern knights he had heard about in Old Nan's stories, that he might make his father proud...

And he smiled a small smile.

He couldn't think of a more fitting ending for himself.


	29. Chapter 29

Bran sighed as he lowered himself down in the steaming bath, closing his eyes as the hot water enveloped his skin.

Leaning back, as he rested his hands on the sides of the iron tub.

After a few moments, Bran opened his eyes and nodded to his valet, "You may go."

The older man laid a towel on a nearby chair, then bowed and left Bran's presence.

When he heard the doors to his chambers close and was sure the servant had left him, Bran took in a deep breath, let go of the sides of the tub and allowed himself fall back and become fully submerged in the water.

# # # # # # # #

" _Sansa!" Jorah Mormont cried, calling through the smoke that filled the upper hall of Winterfell, his face, clothing and sword covered in blood and ash, "Sansa!"_

 _Suddenly, the heavy door to Jon and Sansa's chambers opened and the lock beam that had been barring it from intruders flew out into the hallway._

 _Maester Garrod soon followed, coughing as the smoke, billowing through the passage, filled his lungs and the light from the flames that already engulfed the lower levels of the castle, danced along the north stairwell behind Jorah._

 _The Maester shielded his eyes and his nose as he looked both ways, and when he realized that the hallway was clear of Lannister soldiers, nodded to Ser Jorah._

" _We're here!" he called out, then turned back toward the threshold and reached out for Sansa._

 _Maester Garrod brought the blanket covering her shoulders over the top of her head to shield her from the smoke and flames, then leaned over and placed her arm around his neck, letting her put her weight on him as he led her from the room, still dressed in her shift and robe, still pale and tired from having just given birth._

" _Hold on to me, My Lady…" the Maester encouraged as they moved steadily down the hall toward Jorah._

" _Ser Jorah…" Sansa smirked as Jorah came into view through the smoke, the relief on his face evident when he saw her safe_

 _Jorah smirked back as he sheathed his sword, "How are you feeling?"_

" _I've been_ _better…" Sansa replied, then grimaced as she held her stomach_

 _Jorah then turned to the Maester, "The north stairwell is gone, but if we can make it to the end of the hall, there is a secret passage that will take us to the underground tunnels. Ser Davos told me about it. It will allow safe passage out toward the crypts. He and the Lords have already herded anyone trapped or left behind there. He will meet us."_

 _Sansa nodded as she coughed, bringing the corner of the blanket to cover her mouth with her free hand, as they continued to move with Jorah keeping constant vigilance to make sure the coast was clear._

 _As they moved closer and closer to the end of the hall, Sansa lowered the blanket slowly from her face as the smoke began to clear near the open window ahead and she saw the body of her husband lying crumpled on the floor in a large pool of blood._

" _No…." Sansa gasped, her face crumbling, then screamed, "No!"_

 _She quickly broke free of Maester Garrod and lurched forward, still holding her stomach as the blanket fell from her shoulders and the old maester tried to reach for her._

" _My Lady!"_

" _Jon!" she cried, her eyes filling with tears as she stumbled, her legs still weak, and fell to her knees at her husband's side, blood on the floor instantly soaking through the bottom of her night shift._

" _Gods…no! Please…no…" she whispered as her eyes raked over the many stab wounds to her husband's chest and she took her husband's ashen face into her hands and looked down into it, "Please…"_

 _Maester Garrod quickly came to Jon's side and placed a hand on Jon's arm, feeling for signs of life._

 _When he realized there was no pulse and Jon's body was already turning cold in the rising heat, he turned to Sansa, "My Lady," he urged, his hand finding her shoulder, trying to hide his own emotions, "I'm sorry….There is nothing we can do. He's already gone."_

 _Sansa's sobs grew louder as she lowered her face to her husband's and laid his forehead against his then kissed his cold lips._

 _"Blood of my blood...Born of Fire and Ice...Don't leave me," she whispered, "Come back to me..."_

 _Maester Garrod suddenly coughed and placed a hand on Sansa's shoulder, "My Lady, Please….We must not linger…"_

 _Sansa's face crumbled again as she shook her head, unwilling to leave her husband in their collapsing home._

 _Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded behind them, "Born a bastard… the fire now consumes a Targaryen…how circumstances have changed for Jon Snow."_

 _Sansa, Jorah and the maester turned toward the voice and Jorah quickly reached to draw his sword from his side, but Jamie Lannister was quicker as he brought his own sword to the old knight's throat._

" _Easy, Mormont…" Ser Jamie said, "My fight isn't with you. I've come for something else…"_

 _Then his eyes moved from Jorah down to Sansa, "Where is your child, Lady Sansa?"_

 _Sansa's eyes narrowed as she studied Jamie's face, then she quickly turned to Jon lying on the floor in front of her._

 _Soon, she realized that her son wasn't in the hands of the Lannisters—they had no clue where Benjen was—but he wasn't with Jon, either._

 _Jon must have spirited him away somehow before his death._

" _He_ _got away…" Sansa whispered in realization, closing her eyes as a tear ran down her cheek in relief, then turned back to Jamie Lannister and raised her voice in defiance as she struggled to come to her knees, the old Maester holding her arms, "Even if I knew, you think that I would ever tell you?!"_

" _Do not play with me!" Jamie replied, his face filled with anger at her words then said in a measured tone, "I have lost everything that ever meant anything to me because of the Targaryens! I will not lose my chance for this last vengeance—"_

" _Unfortunately, I think that time has passed," Sansa interjected haughtily, then glanced at her husband, "You have killed the last of the Targaryens. Your vengeance is done—"_

" _It's never done!" Jamie practically screamed, stepping closer and holding his sword higher to Jorah's throat, but keeping his eyes menacingly on Sansa, "Now tell me where the child is!"_

 _Sansa's nostrils flared as she leaned forward and her eyes narrowed, "Not…Here."_

 _Suddenly, Brianne of Tarth emerged from the smoke and towered behind Jamie Lannister for mere seconds before she hit him hard in the back of the head with the hilt of her sword._

 _Jorah's quick reflexes allowed him to grab Jamie's wrist and pull his enemy's sword away from his neck as Jamie fell unconscious to the floor._

" _What are you all still doing here?" Brianne chided then coughed into her arm._

 _Suddenly, she saw Jon's body lying in front of Sansa in the distance, "Gods…"_

 _She immediately lowered her arm and met Sansa's grief –stricken eyes, "My Lady… I—"_

" _Right!" Jorah suddenly interjected, quickly moving between the two women toward Sansa and the Maester, "Time to go!"_

" _No!" Sansa protested as Jorah lifted her into his arms and she tried in vain to free herself and return to her husband's side, "We can't leave him! No!"_

 _Brianne watched the Maester lead the way ahead of Ser Jorah toward the crypt passage before her eyes looked down and moved from Ser Jamie to Jon Snow –enemies now lying side by side in one of the oldest castles in the Seven Kingdoms._

 _It was clear that Jon was gone, his body already showing signs of death…_

 _Brianne raised her gaze again as she saw the passage door open from the inside, behind a large floor to ceiling painting of Bran The Builder, and Ser Davos Seaworth waive to Jorah and Maester Garrod._

" _Ser Davos!" Jorah cried in relief to the man through the smoke_

" _I waited ages, but didn't see anyone. I came to see what had happened…" he said as he took in the sight of the small party and said, "Where is Jon?"_

 _Brianne's eyes moved back down toward the two men lying on the stones in the hallway._

 _The sound of fire was fast approaching and she had to decide._

 _She looked up and saw the passage door open and Ser Davos calling her name through the smoke, "Lady Brianne!"_

 _Brianne coughed again as she sheathed her sword…her eyes looking upon the old man waiving her toward the safety of the passage, then leaned down and placed her hands under Ser Jamie Lannister's arms and lifted him just enough to drag him with her._

 _# # # # # # # # # # #_

" _You left without our King?!" Ser Davos cried, turning toward Jorah as he laid a weeping Sansa gently on the blanket Maester Garrod had placed upon the ground when they reached the crypts under Winterfell._

 _Lord Manderlay chimed in, "Gods! He deserved better—"_

" _There was no time. We had to leave him…." Jorah responded, his face grief-stricken as he looked to the small crowd in the room—most of them lords of the North, a handful of soldiers, castle servants and villagers that were unable to flee the keep in time, "I very much regret that he had to return to his ancestors that way."_

 _Davos turned from him and immediately went over to Sansa, "My Lady—"_

" _Where is my son?" Sansa asked, her blue eyes bright and brimmed with tears_

" _Lady Arya rode away from Winterfell with him, My Lady," one of the guards reported, "He is safe—on his way to the Twins."_

 _Sansa sighed in relief then nodded solemnly, "Thank You…"_

 _She then turned toward Maester Garrod and Ser Jorah, "Thank you both….I apologize—"_

" _Your husband was a great man, My Lady," Jorah interjected with sad eyes, resting his hand on his sword at his hip, "and a good one. It's a rare combination. Loving such a man so much you are unwilling to leave his side, is nothing to apologize for, nor is chastising those who would leave him behind…" Then he sighed, "The unfortunate reality is that the North needs a Stark to lead them—I had to make sure no harm would come to you. Forgive me."_

 _A tear streaked down Sansa's right cheek as she smirked and nodded to Ser Jorah as she whispered her mother's words, "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."  
_

 _# # # # # #_

 _It was nearing dawn, long after the soldiers had left the rubble of Winterfell, that the Maester descended the steps down into the crypt and touched a sleeping Jorah on the shoulder._

 _When the old knight came to, Maester Garrod whispered, "They are gone. The road is clear."_

 _Jorah nodded as he wiped the sleep from his eyes, then watched as the old maester walked forward and kneeled down next to Sansa, preparing an herb mixture for her to ingest._

 _After a moment, he gently roused her and he and Ser Davos helped her sit up on the blanket where she had fallen asleep crying._

 _Jorah looked over to Brianne, who had kept watch all night._

 _She sat with a shackled, still unconscious, Jamie Lannister at her side._

 _Jorah knew that everyone judged Brianne for not taking Jon instead of Jamie, but he knew in his heart that they would get more Jamie's living body, than Jon's dead one._

 _Around them, rose the low chatter of people slowly awakening and preparing for the evacuation of the crypt._

 _Suddenly, there was a loud noise and everyone's eyes moved toward the back of the crypt._

 _Footsteps sounded on the stairs descending from the castle passage as everyone grew deathly silent._

 _Jorah immediately stood and moved to protect Sansa, drawing his sword as he stood in front of her and the maester._

 _Soon, a figure appeared in the torch light and it seemed as though all the air was immediately sucked out of the room._

" _Mother of…" Ser Davos whispered, his eyes growing as big as saucers_

 _It was Jon._

 _Murmurs instantly broke out in the crowd and the Northern lords quickly clamored to the front to witness what was happening._

 _His clothes had been burned away and he was covered in ash and burns that seemed to be healing and dissolving right before their very eyes…_

 _But, it was Jon._

" _Jon?" Sansa whispered in disbelief as she struggled to her feet without the help of the maester or Ser Davos who could only stand there in awe of what they were seeing._

 _Jorah's eyes filled with tears and he slowly lowered his sword as Sansa passed him, her eyes locking with Jon's as she stumbled toward him._

 _After a moment, he immediately rushed forward to meet her halfway and she fell into his arms._

 _He pulled her up and held her against him in a tight embrace, then kissed her._

" _You're real…" she whispered, pulling back when he released her lips, a small smile crossing her face and tears welling in her eyes as she looking her husband over, "It's you…You came back to me."_

" _I did…" Jon replied, then held his wife close to him again, his eyes closing in relief, "I heard you."_

 _Suddenly, Jon felt a blanket come around his naked shoulders and looked over to see Ser Davos at his side._

" _All Hail, Eamonn of the Houses Stark and Targaryen!" Davos said in a loud, resonating tone, turning toward the small crowd, his eyes filled with wonder, joy and disbelief, "Born of ice and fire! King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men! Lord of the Seven Kingdoms!"_

 _Davos then bowed his head and fell to his knees before Jon, "Long may he reign!"_

 _Soon, Jorah followed suit, holding out his sword in allegiance as he came to one knee and bowed solemnly, "Long may he reign."_

" _Long may he reign!" the Lords said in unison, unsheathing their swords, one by one, and laying them upon the ground in allegiance as they fell to one knee before Jon and Sansa_

 _Jon's eyes widened as he and Sansa turned and watched as the crowd followed suit, immediately falling to their knees in silent awe of and allegiance to the heir to the Iron Throne._

 _# # # # # # #_

Strong arms suddenly pulled Bran up and out of the freezing cold bath water as he gasped for air.

When his vision cleared, Bran saw Jon leaning over the tub above him.

Within moments, Jon had brought Bran to the heat of his bare chest as Maester Garrod rushed forward and checked Bran's vital signs.

Maester Garrod received two towels from a nearby servant and handed one to Jon, while he took the other and the two men briskly ran the towels over Bran's body to get his circulation going again.


End file.
